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University  of  Illinois  Library 


Mav  -9  I35S 


L 161— 1141 

* P 


THE 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL 


WITH  OTHER  POEMS. 


BY  DAVID  MALLOCK,  A.M. 


first  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


NEW- YORK : 

t WILLIAM  STODART, 

No.  G Courtlandt-street. 


1833. 


OF  THE 

U N I VERS  ITY 
or  ILLINOIS 


&z\ 


I * :' 


I 


i 


THE 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL 


WITH  OTHER  POEMS. 


BY  DAVID  MALLOCK,  A.M. 


FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


xNEW-YORK  : 

.#  WILLIAM  STODAKT, 

G Courtlandt-street. 


1833. 


BOOTH  AND  SMITH,  PRINTERS. 

No.  7 Wall-street. 


821 

M295i 


THE 

IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 
PART  1. 


•W 


P 


CONTENTS. 


Immortality  of  the  Soul — Pagt 

Part  I I 

Part  II 25 

Notes  45 

Miscellaneous  Poems — 

Mutability «...  54 

To  a Star 57 

Sonnet 58 

Scene,  from  Arthur’s  Seat,  near  Edinburgh . 59 

The  Fountain 60 

The  Last  of  his  Race  62 

Eudemus  and  Ellenore 66 

Specimens  of  an  unpublished  Poem — 

Earth 78 

The  Birth  of  Clouds  and  Rivers 79 

Stanzas 81 

The  bringing  up  of  the  Ark 81 

Stanzas  ; 85 

Babylon  : 86 

To  the  Stars 87 

Palestine 88 

The  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca  90 

Hebrew  Melody . 92 

Well  of  Bethlehem 94 


; V,: 

“ "''’"-'V:'.  . Ti:^: 

.v’-'*.  ' ,^'r-/  Vt 


#•;. 


V 


PREFACE. 


It  may  be  proper  to  state,  that  the  following  Poem,  on 
the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  was  read  in  the  University 
of  Edinburgh,  Session  1828-27,  having  been  successful 
in  competition  with  others  on  the  same  subject.  Had 
the  Author  followed  the  dictates  of  self-esteem,  rather 
than  of  prudence,  he  might  long  ere  now  have  given  it 
to  the  public;  but  a consciousness  of  the  greatness  of 
the  subject,  and  a knowledge  of  the  weakness  of  many 
parts  of  the  Poem,  as  it  originally  stood,  conjoined  with 
the  hope  of  being  able,  in  maturer  years,  to  render  it 
more  worthy  of  public  notice,  have  deferred  its  appear- 
ance till  now. 

Should  the  Author,  however,  in  the  estimation  of  the 
candid  and  the  discerning,  still  be  deemed  to  have  failed 
in  his  object,  (for  he  is  well  aware  that  the  mirror  of 
self-love  too  frequently  returns  a false  reflection,)  the 
erroneousness  of  private  judgment  may  perhaps  meet 
with  gentle  treatment,  upon  the  recollection  that  the 
innate  grandeur  of  the  subject  can  suffer  no  eclipse  from 
the  dim  shadowings  of  his  weakness. 

J^ondon,  April  3d,  1832. 

A 


ANALYSIS  OF  PART  I. 


The  Poem  opens  with  the  supposition  of  Annihilation  after  death. — 
The  feelings  arising  from  such  a supposition  attempted  to  be  portrayed 
by  an  apostrophic  burst  of  the  Soul,  in  which  are  depicted  the  bold  and 
sublime  features  of  Nature. — Reason  invoked  to  dispel  the  horror  of 
such  a Doctrine. — An  address  to  the  Deity. 

FIRST  ARGUMENT. 

The  universal  belief  of  Immortality. 

Scene: — ^The  East. — Vale  of  Cashmere. — Worship  described. — Cau- 
casus and  Himmaluh. — Doctrines  of  Zoroaster. — Mode  of  worship  de- 
picted.— India  beyond  the  Ganges. — Siam. — Hindostan. — Doctrines  of 
Bramah  illustrated  by  a Hindoo  mother  presenting  her  child  as  an  offer- 
ing to  the  sacred  river. — Suttee. — Voluntary  death  of  a Brahmin. — ■ 
Agra  and  Delhi. — Their  plains  ensanguined  by  the  fanaticism  of  Idol 
worship. 

Scene: — The  West. — The  palmy  isles  of  the  Pacific. — Mode  of 
worship  described. — Conclusion  of  the  Argument. — Inference,  Immor- 
tality. 

SECOND  ARGUMENT. 

Monumental  Remembrances, 

Sequestered  burying  ground  described. — Nature  introduced  as  a 
Mourner. — Human  Love  apostrophised. — The  Cypress- tree,  an  em- 
blem of  Immortality. — The  brutal  tribes  contrasted  with  man,  in  respect 
of  their  short-lived  reminiscences. — ^Conclusion  of  the  Argument,— 
Inference,  the  same, 


X 


ANALYSIS  OF  PART  h 


THIRD  ARGUMENT.* 

The  Love  of  Fame. 

Invocation. — The  Spirit  of  the  Past. — Youthful  feelings,  arising 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  illustrious  Dead,  developed. — Character 
of  Epaminondas. — Egypt. — Her  fallen  grandeur  bewailed. — Palmyra. 
— Her  state  of  splendour  delineated. — Scene  changed  : — Her  sublimity 
in  ruin  apostrophised. — The  greatness  of  her  fall  illustrated  by  the  ever- 
lasting sleep  of  her  Weeping  Fountain. — Twofold  inference. — Contem- 
plation of  her  ruins  exciting  in  the  Soul  a lofty  consciousness  of  its  own 
powers,  and  secondly,  showing  the  hopes  of  Immortality  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  erected  these  Edifices,  by  means  of  which  they  hoped  to 
extend  their  Existence  through  future  ages, 

FOURTH  ARGUMENT. 

The  delight  which  the  Mind  feels  in  picturing  ideal  scenes  of  Purity  and 
Bliss,  pointing  to  a higher  state  of  Existence. 

The  birth  of  Time. — Allusion  to  the  golden  Age  of  the  Poets. — 
Elysium. — Inference,  Immortality. 

FIFTH  ARGUMENT. 

The  Unity  and  Immatenality  of  Mind. 

Close  sympathy  between  the  body  and  the  mind,  illustrated  by 
streams  running  from  the  same  fountain. — The  separate  existence  of  the 
Soul  exemplified  by  the  Musician  and  his  harp. — The  frequent  expan* 
sion  of  the  Soul  at  Death,  proving  its  immateriality. — Its  activity  in 
dreaming. — Its  unity  inferred  from  a contrary  supposition. — Apostrophe* 
— Conclusion  of  Part  the  First. 


THE 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


PART  L 


NON  OMNIS  MORIAR. 

Delusive  Hopes,  farewell ! Alas  ! no  more 
Can  your  bright  visions  flatter  as  before : 

Fleeting  as  dreams — their  glories  could  not  last ; 
Baseless  as  clouds — their  airy  reign  is  past. 

Oh,  dreadful  presage  ! are  the  skiey  tow’rs 
Of  High  Thought  levelFd,  and  Death’s  sterile  bow’; 
Cull’d  of  their  roses,  by  this  fearful  doom — 

Man’s  heaven-born  Soul,  must  perish  in  the  tomb  1 
Erewhile,  methought  I could  serenely  lay 
My  limbs  to  rest,  and  breathe  my  life  away ; 

Upon  the  dying  pillow  lean  my  head. 

And  calmly  sink  among  the  voiceless  Dead : 

For  I had  deem’d,  my  nobler  part  would  rise, 

On  wings  of  pow’r,  beyond  the  starry  skies. 

And  still  speed  onward  with  a Seraph’s  flight, 

Until  it  bask’d  in  uncreated  light. 


2 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OP  THE  SOULt 


Vain  are  these  hopes,  if  such  the  Spirit’s  doom^ 

Death  its  award, — its  dwelling  place,  the  tomb ! 

Ye  blindly  Wise,  who  boldly  dare  to  say. 

The  parting  soul  must  perish  with  the  clay ; 

Who  deem  Divine  Philosophy  your  own. 

Yet  trample  thus  upon  her  radiant  throne ; 

Who  call  the  Wise — the  Weak — the  Proud — the  Free, 
Those  bound  in  chains — the  Sons  of  Liberty ; 

Who  boast  that  o’er  the  lowly  Crowd  ye  rise. 

Yet  thus  unplume  a Native  of  the  skies ! 

Ye  vainly  Great ! O ! mark  the  gath’ring  gloom. 

Your  earth-born  wisdom  flings  around  the  tomb  1 

So  might  the  parting  Spirit  greet  our  ear. 

When  the  dark  hour  of  Endless  Night  drew  near ! 

And  Earth  receding  from  her  swimming  eye. 

Hopeless,  she  sunk  in  Death’s  cold  agony ! 

And  must  I perish — must  the  cruel  Grave 
Gorge  my  existence,  pitiless  to  save. 

And  whelm  my  being  in  the  dread  abyss 
Of  Death  eternal — endless  Nothingness  ? 

Oh  ! thus  to  linger  ! one  reviving  breath, — 

I live  again  ! — alas  ! can  this  be  death  ? 

Life,  Hope,  farewell  ! it  is  ! — I feel  even  now 
Cold  carnal  damps  stand  thick  upon  my  brow  ! 

Borne  from  the  regions  of  the  glowing  Day, 

In  endless  Night  I sink — away — away  ! 


'THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


S 


J'arewell,  ye  glorious  Heavens, — intense  in  brightness ! 
Ye  Clouds  all  gorgeous, — basM  in  snowy  whiteness ! 
Sailing  like  islands  of  the  Blest  on  high, 

O’er  the  calm  ocean  of  yon  crystal  sky  ; — «■ 

Thou  radiant  Fountain  of  all  Beauty,  too. 

Thee  I must  leave — God  of  the  day,  adieu ! 

Ye  silver  Stars — coursers  of  the  Most  High, 

Running  your  race  of  swiftness  through  the  sky. 
Nightly,  with  silent  feet — ’dewing  your  track 
With  milky  splendour,  and  shedding  far  back 
Through  Ether’s  solitudes,  in  numerous  streams 
Of  liquid  radiance,  which,  like  light  in  dreams 
That  vision  heaven,  o’ermaster  the  frail  sense 
So  wild  they  shine — they  sparkle  so  intense  ! 

And  thou,  soul-melting  Moon,  with  thy  pale  ray 
Mellowing  the  fiercer  tints  of  golden  day. 

And,  with  the  soften’d  lustre  of  thy  face, 

Gilding  the  blue  dome  of  eternal  Space ; 

Chaste  Moon,  farewell  i Thee,  too,  Dedalian  Earth — 
Thee  I must  leave,  huge  cradle  of  my  birth  ! 

By  spirits  rock’d,  that  chaunt  life’s  lullaby 
In  the  immortal  music  of  the  sky  ! — 

Spher’d  World,  adieu!  with  thy  fair  garniture 
Of  Nature’s  working,  that  shall  still  endure ; 

Eternal  pyramids — cloud-cleaving  Mountains  ! 

Mirrors  translucent — ever-swelling  Fountains  I 
Green  Harps  of  Heaven’s  wild  music, — waving  Woods, 
That  sooth  with  airy  notes  your  solitudes  ! — 

2 


4 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Realms  of  the  virgin  lilies — lowly  Vales, 

Tho’  subject,  beauteous — where  the  love-sick  gales 
Linger,  to  kiss  away  the  dewy  tears 
Of  your  sweet  Natives,  when  the  dawn  appears! 
Nature’s  calm  chambers,  deep  Dells,  gloomy  Bow’rs, 
With  your  still  people — incense-breathing  Flow’rs, 
That  pale  and  blush  in  their  own  mute  recess, 

While  gazing  on  each  other’s  loveliness  ! — 

Rivers  majestic  ! through  the  vales  that  glide 
To  lose  your  waters  in  the  rolling  Tide ; 

Crowning  your  verdured  banks  with  endless  flow’rs. 
And  sending  gladness  through  this  world  of  ours, 
Down  from  yon  mountain’s  snow-crown’d  pinnacle, 
Strong  in  your  might,  majestic  Streams,  farewell ! — 
Thou  boundless  Ocean — floor  of  Nature’s  dome. 
King  of  all  floods,  their  parent  and  their  home  I 
Mirror  of  Heaven,  where  its  bright  hosts  behold 
Their  forms  reflected,  bathed  in  trembling  gold ; 
Young  in  eternal  strength,  thou  still  shalt  roll 
Thy  giant  waters  on  from  Pole  to  Pole, 

Girdling  the  world  with  thy  deep  zone  of  blue, 
Ocean  ! thou  last  of  -things,  adieu — adieu  !” 

If,  from  the  blissful  realms  of  golden  Day 
The  Spirit  thus  be  doom’d  to  pass  away ; 

If  in  such  anguish,  such  appalling  fears. 

Must  end  the  round  of  sorrow-circled  years ; 

O 1 Life,  what  art  thou  ? what  thy  brightest  beam  ? 
A meteor  flash — a lightning- winged  dream  ! 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Bind  with  the  shady  wreath  the  sunny  brow, 

And  for  the  Myrtle,  take  the  Cypress  bough ; 

Quench  the  bland  lustre  of  the  laughing  eye — 

Hope ! droop  thy  wings,  Thou  too  art  doom’d  to  die. 

Hail ! Guiding  Light,  o’er  life’s  tempestuous  sea 
Unsetting  Star ! we  gladly  turn  to  thee  ! 
Transcendent  Intellect ! thy  holy  ray 
Shall  chase  the  gloom  of  impious  Doubt  away. 

And  ’mid  the  closing  darkness  of  the  tomb. 

The  flickering  lamp  of  faith  shall  re-illume ! 

O ! may  that  Spirit,  whose  bright  resting-place 
Is  the  blue  temple  of  unbounded  space. 

Whose  breath  enkindled  those  eternal  fires 
That  gem  Heaven’s  azure  halls  when  day  expires ; 
Who  bade  our  starry  train  in  pomp  arise, 

And  sweep  majestic  round  the  circling  skies ; 
Fountain  of  Being — endless  Source  of  Love, 

Shed  o’er  this  heart  meet  influence  from  above, 

Such  that  the  Spirit,  borne  on  wings  of  pow’r, 

Rising,  may  claim  her  everlasting  dow’r ; 

And  like  the  Sun’s  own  bird  exulting  cry, 

“ Earth  gave  me  birth, — my  home  is  in  the  sky.” 

If  then  we  deem  th’  immortal  Spirit  must 
Sink  with  its  frail  companion  in  the  dust ; 

Or,  like  the  golden  mist  that  veils  the  morn, 

Dissolve  away  as  soon  as  it  is  born  j 


6 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL* 


Whence,  Thou  Dark  Doubting  One — say,  whence  arise 
In  every  breast  such  longings  for  the  skies  ? 

Wing  thy  bold  flight  around  the  Dedal  world. 
Where’er  the  Sun  his  banner  has  unfurl’d. 

And  with  his  host  of  glittering  beams  hath  driven 
The  shades  of  night  beyond  the  cope  of  heaven ; 

Fly  to  the  East — the  realms  of  silver  Light, 

Where  Day  springs  rosy  from  the  arms  of  Night ; 

See  ! ’mid  the  scented  vales  of  sweet  Cashmere, 
Where  fadeless  roses  blossom  through  the  year. 

And  cloudless  skies  by  day,  and  starry  nights. 

Still  prompt  the  gladdened  Soul  to  new  delights, 

And,  Siren-like,  invite  her  still  to  stay, 

An  erring  wand’rer  on  her  viewless  way ; 

Strong  in  her  in-born  virtue,  see  ! she  springs 
Aloft,  and  heaven-ward  spreads  her  glittering  wings  ! 
No  more  shall  Ahriman  the  sceptre  wield — 

Shiver’d  his  fiery  sword,  and  magic  shield ; 

Ormuzd  alone  in  lasting  light  shall  reign. 

And  cleanse  the  earth-born  Soul  from  every  stain ! 

Hark ! from  the  summits  of  yon  mountains  blue — 

Of  lofty  Caucasus,  or  Himmaluh ; 

Altars  resplendent,  of  that  gorgeous  dome 
Which  the  rapt  Spirit  finds  her  native  home  I 
Melodious  accents  greet  the  list’ning  ear, 

Like  rippling  waves,  when  summer  suns  appear — 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


7 


So  soft  the  swell — upborne  they  mount  on  high, 

And  enter  Mithras’  palace  in  the  sky; 

Sooth’d  is  the  God — his  starry  legions  rise 
From  blest  repose,  and  glance  along  the  skies : 

Bright  are  their  deeds,  but  viewless  are  their  forms ; — 
They  rule  the  day,  and  shelter  it  from  storms ; 
Meanwhile,  in  Passion’s  ever-wakeful  ear, 

Hope  whispers  peace — “ Thou  shalt  not  perish  here ; 
But  when  Life’s  ling’ring  years  their  race  have  run, 
Then  shalt  thou  dwell  with  Mithras  in  the  sun !” 

Pierce  the  dread  gloom  of  woods  that  shadows  o’er 
India’s  vast  plains,  or  Siam’s  spicy  shore ; 

Yes ! ’mid  these  deep  recesses  shalt  thou  find 
Beings  who  boast  of  an  Immortal  Mind ; 

Who,  ’neath  the  unribrage  of  some  giant  tree, 

To  gods  mis-shapen  bow  the  trembling  knee, 

And  breathe  a prayer  for  Immortality ! 

See  ! by  the  banks  of  Ganges’  holy  wave. 

Whose  sacred  streams  enrich  the  fields  they  lave, 

See ! issuing  from  yon  palmy  grove  that  rears 
On  high,  the  branchings  of  a thousand  years, 

And  casts  its  shadow  o’er  the  azure  plain 
Which  rolls  its  snowy  tribute  to  the  main, 

Yon  solemn  pomp — Amid  the  sounding  throng, 

Slow  as  a wearied  cloud,  is  borne  along 
The  Hindoo  Mother ; all  her  strugglings  past. 

Nature  subdued,  her  heaven  she  gains  at  last. 

2* 


8 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Lo  ! by  her  side,  embedded  ’mong  bright  flow’rSy 
Such  as  unfading  bloom  in  Betah’s  bow’rs, 

A rosy  child  appears,  whose  sparkling  eye 
Mocks  the  rich  lustre  of  an  Indian  sky, — 

Smiles  on  her  placid  face,  and  seems  to  say, 

‘‘  How  my  soul  yearns  to  thee  this  blessed  day, 
Fountain  of  life  ! Let  these  weak  arms  entwine 
Thy  form,  as  doth  the  elm,  the  drooping  vine. 
Bright  is  the  sky,  unshaken  is  the  tree. 

Yet  still  this  boding  heart  would  turn  to  thee.’' 
Vain  the  appeal  ; ‘‘  To  holy  Bramah  thou, 

Child  of  my  tears,  art  consecrated  now.” 

Lo  ! on  the  bosom  of  the  waters  laid. 

Soon,  soon,  it  sinks  in  everlasting  shade. 

And  yet,  if  natural  things,  which  ebb  and  flow, 
Might  e’er  be  deemed  to  weep  at  human  wo, 

The  sobbing  stream  might  charm  the  babe  to  rest. 
Folding  its  robe  of  azure  round  his  breast. 

And,  ere  its  waters  still’d  upon  his  grave, 

Might  mourn  the  Innocent  it  could  not  save  ! 

Balm  to  the  mother’s  grief — the  God  has  given 
Her  child  a home  beside  himself  in  heaven. 

The  spouseless  Widow,  with  a tearful  smile, 
Clasps  to  her  breast  her  partner  on  the  pile  ; 

And,  ’mid  the  billows  of  devouring  flame. 

Expires  exultant,  breathing  forth  his  name. 

The  thousand  dangers  of  life’s  voyage — o’er. 

In  Scheevah’s  bow’rs  they  meet — to  part  no  more. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


9 


The  high-sourd  Brahmin  spurns  his  home  of  clay, 
Breaks  its  weak  walls,  and  soars  to  endless  day ! 

Ask  Agra  steeps,  or  Delhi’s  whit’ning  plains, 

Where  the  dread  Power  of  Superstition  reigns  ? 

Ask  why  the  flow’ry  sod  is  sprinkled  o’er 
With  purpled  dew-drops  and  ensanguin’d  gore  ? 

’Tis  there  the  starry  pathway  of  the  skies 
Leads  with  broad  sweep  to  sainted  Paradise. 

Tend  thy  wild  flight  to  the  far  distant  West, 

Where  the  fierce  day-star  sinks  into  his  rest. 

And  paves  with  golden  light  the  lucent  sea, 

Whose  peaceful  waters  slumber  silently 
Round  the  green  shores  of  many  a palmy  isle. 

Which  o’er  its  azure  breast  is  seen  to  smile — 

Each,  in  its  verdurous  beauty,  a fair  gem 
In  deep-empurpled  Ocean’s  diadem. 

Yes  ! though  embosom’d  in  the  lonely  deep. 

Unknown  to  Science  in  her  circling  sweep — 

Yes  ! even  here.  Bold  Doubter,  shalt  thou  find 
Illustrious  traces  of  Immortal  Mind : 

Here  vows  are  made,  here  pray’rs  ascend  to  forms 
That  guard  the  wat’ry  wilderness  from  storms  ; 

While  from  the  deep  Moral’s  central  gloom, 

The  chainless  Soul,  exulting,  mocks  the  tomb. 

Circle,  on  soaring  wing,  this  rounded  Sphere, 

Where  Winter  wields  his  storms  through  half  the  year, 


10 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Where  rosy  Spring,  with  all  her  blooming  train, 

Brings  the  Elysian  ages  back  again  ; 

Where  radiant  Summer  ne’er  is  seen  to  set, 

Nor  Autumn  with  her  golden  coronet : 

Still  in  each  region — still  in  every  clime, 

Man’s  spirit  spurns  the  narrowing  bounds  of  Time  ; 
And,  like  the  tow’ring  Condor,  loves  to  rise 
O’er  the  low  earth,  and  soar  along  the  skies. 

See,  through  the  branchings  of  these  clust’ring  trees, 
Which  wave  their  emerald  tresses  in  the  breeze, 

How  calmy  beautiful,  how  mildly  bright. 

Its  shaft  it  rears,  ernbathed  in  mellowed  light — 

Yon  monumental  marble  ! Nature’s  tears 
Have  dimm’d  the  radiance  of  its  primal  years. 

And,  have  the  Heavens  alone  bewailed  the  doom 
Of  Beauty  sleeping  in  that  lonely  tomb  ? 

And  have  the  golden  Clouds  rain’d  down  their  showers 
Alone,  to  nourish  these  undrooping  flowers? 

And  has  no  human  Love,  with  moistened  eye, 

Bless’d,  as  they  pass’d,  these  Mourners  of  the  sky. 

And  blended  with  their  balmy  drops  its  own. 

And  joy’d  to  think  they  had  not  wept  alone  ? 

Yes  ! o’er  each  grassy  heap  and  flow’ring  mound, 

That  marks  the  region  of  Sepulchral  Ground, 

Tears  have  been  shed,  and,  swelling  forth  its  grief, 

The  sorrow-laden  heart  has  found  relief. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


11 


Oh,  holy  Nature  ! still  most  true  to  thee, 

Our  Dead  we  lay  beneath  the  cypress-tree  ! 
Emblem  of  Grief,  and  overshadowing  Love, 

It  spreads  its  arms  most  droopingly  above. 

And  shelters  them,  and  whispers  o’er  their  tomb, 

“ Your  nobler  part,  like  mine,  shall  ever  bloom !” 

W ith  meteor  wings  thought  speeds  across  the  plain 
Where  barren  Zarah  holds  her  thirsty  reign. 

And  fast  and  far  as  darts  the  piercing  eye. 

Heaves  her  white  waves  around  the  bending  sky — 
Un-navigable  Sea ! when  once  has  past 
O’er  its  gray  marge  the  whirling  desert  blast! 

Here  do  the  thousand  Savages  that  roam 
Afric’s  drear  realms  retain  their  fiery  home. 

And  do  they  ever  live?  No  sign  we  see 
“ Of  dying  flesh  or  dull  mortality 
No  turf-crowned' tomb,  no  cypress-shaded  urn. 

No  mark  of  grief  to  make  the  living  mourn. 

No ! these  can  view  their  frail  companions  yield 
To  death,  and  leave  them  tombless  on  the  field. 

Not  so  the  noblest  of  the  living  race 
Who  wears  the  God  imprinted  on  his  face ; 

He  from  unholy  hands  still  seeks  to  keep 

The  lov’d  in  death — Faith  cries,  “ They  only  sleep.” 

Say,  whence  the  passion  that  absorbs  the  soul 
Which  pants-  to  reach  transcendent  Glory’s  goal  ? 


12 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Whence  the  desire  of  cherishing  our  name, 

And  feeding  it  with  th’  Asphodels  of  Fame  ? 

Oh,  wake,  thou  Spirit  of  the  Past ! unfold 
Thy  banner,  blazoned  with  the  deeds  of  old ! 

See  ! through  the  parting  mists  of  ancient  years. 

Like  a long  line  of  light,  thy  roll  appears. 

Lo  ! on  its  pictured  page,  undimm’d  by  Time, 

Are  sainted  names,  in  characters  sublime ; 

And  still  ’mid  light  unfading  seem  to  stand. 

The  guides  and  guardians  of  our  father-land. 

When  first,  on  Fancy’s  airy  pinions  borne, 

I scal’d  Life’s  mount,  and  hail’d  her  purple  morn, 

And  scann’d  the  bright’ning  heav’ns,  and  mark’d  the  skies 
Expectant  blush,  to  see  the  Glory  rise — 

Illustrious  Theban ! thou  to  me  didst  seem 
A glorious  vision  in  my  youthful  dream. 

How  my  heart  panted,  ’mid  the  deaf’ning  roar 
Of  cataracts  thund’ring  down  the  mountains  hoar^ 

To  think  of  thee — to  view  thee  walking  still 
In  Virtue’s  path — unshook  the  steadfast  will ! 

Stranger  to  Pride,  while  Greece’s  hundred  Isles 
Hailed  thee  Deliverer ; and  the  sunny  smiles 
Of  her  fair  daughters  glanced  around  thy  brow, 

Like  radiant  arrows  from  the  Silver  Bow, 

Still,  still,  unmoved — “ My  Parents,”  would’st  thou  say, 
“ How  joyful  must  they  be  this  blessed  day  ! 

And,  when  upborne  upon  thy  bloody  shield^ 

A victor,  from  the  carnage-covered  field, 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


13 


Still  did  thy  closing  lips  and  parting  breath 
Murmur  forth  music  in  the  strife  of  death. 

“ Hail  bright  award  for  this  untimely  doom  ! — - 
Undying  Thoughts,  shall  hover  round  my  tomb 

Yes  ! glorious  Greek  ! through  Time’s  devouring  years 
Shall  bloom  thy  virtues,  water’d  by  our  tears ; 

Yes,  safe  amid  the  shattered  wrecks  of  Fame, 

Theban  ! thou  towerest — an  immortal  name. 

Mysterious  Land ! where  Darkness  lov’d  to  rear 
Her  throne  of  clouds,  o’er  Time’s  revolving  year. 

And  vainly  hop’d  man’s  Science-beaming  eye 
Might  never  pierce  the  deep  gloom  of  her  sky. 

Where  are  thy  wonders  ! where  thy  mysteries  now? 
Unveiled  thy  form — untressed  thy  sullen  brow  ! 

Thy  hundred-gated  Cities,  where  are  they  ? 

Thy  tow’ring  Domes  that  hail’d  the  purple  day, 

Thy  Temples  and  thy  Palaces  ? The  blast 
Of  with’ring  Death  hath  o’er  thy  glories  pass’d. 

And  crumbling  Piles,  and  Monuments  alone, 

Mark  the  sad  spot  where  Egypt’s  splendours  shone. 

Green  Isle  of  Beauty,  ’mid  the  sandy  sea ! 

Star  of  the  East ! now  would  we  turn  to  thee  1 
In  palmy  pride  we  view  thee — snowy  Tow’rs 
Glance  like  soft  moonlight  through  thy  citron  bow’rs: 
Wide  spreading  Porticoes,  where  Art  displays 
The  ripen’d  glories  of  her  golden  days. 


14 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OP  THE  SOUL* 


Panes  and  tall  Temples,  where  the  king  of  Light 
Enshrines  his  Godhead — ^burst  upon  the  sight ; 
Divinest  forms  of  marble  living  there, 

Breathe  their  mute  thoughts  upon  the  silent  air, 
And  fill  with  preternatural  Love  thy  halls. 

Which  sigh  responsive  from  their  pictur’d  walls* 

Hark  ! through  thy  busy  streets,  the  bright  array. 
The  martial  pomp  proclaims  the  festive  day. 
While  Beauty’s  shining  locks  and  sparkling  eyes 
Enhance  thy  lustre — Palmy  Paradise  ! 

Past  is  the  music  of  that  fleeting  dream  ; — ■ 

On  thy  white  turrets  now  no  longer  gleam 
The  silver  arrows  of  that  radiant  Power, 

Who  guarded  thee,  and  mourn’d  thy  falling  hour. 

What  of  thy  splendour.  Proudest  Queen ! remains 
Fragments  thick-strewn  along  the  sandy  plains  ; 
Nay  ! thine  own  Fountain,  in  its  shadowy  sleep, 
O’er  thy  lost  grandeur  has  forgot  to  weep  ! — 

The  desert-tempests  of  a thousand  years 
Have  sealed  the  source  of  its  embalming  tears  ! — 

And  in  thy  ruins  can  we  only  see 
The  blasted  hopes  of  cold  mortality  ! — 

Thou  prostrate  Beauty  ! No,  through  rolling  Time, 
Thy  shiver’d  urn  shall  speak  of  things  sublime, 
And  urge  the  lofty  Soul  from  earth  to  rise, 

To  its  enduring  palace  in  the  skies  ! 


■THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


15 


While  on  thy  mouldering  columns  each  can  trace, 
Sculptur’d,  the  hopes  of  an  Immortal  Race  ! — 

Fly  to  the  cradle-home  of  ages — fly  ! — 

See  Time  emerging  from  Eternity  ! 

Fluttering  his  star-gemm’d  pinions  for  the  flight 
Of  myriad  years ; — and  braiding,  in  the  light 
Of  the  young  heavens,  his  locks  of  golden  hue ; 

Then  clustering  vine-like,  hoary,  now,  and  few  ! 

Look  at  the  primal  World,  whose  fragrant  bow’rs 
Enamoured  held  the  ever-circling  Hours ; 

And  Spring,  perpetual,  in  her  rosy  chain. 

With  laughing  eyes,  fast  bound  the  fleeting  train ! 

See  the  bright  scenes  which  deathless  Bards  unfold 
Through  ages  past — Saturnian  years  of  gold  ! 

When  Peace  and  Innocence  walk’d  hand  in  hand, 

And  balmy  influence  shed,  o’er  every  land — 

When  Earth,  unwounded,  bared  her  bounteous  breast, 
And  gave  the  hungry,  food — the  weary,  rest. 

Dreams,  glorious,  golden  ! heaven-taught  Poets  sung 
Your  soft  deliciousriess,  ere  yet  w^ere  flung 
Around  man’s  spirit,  that  all-dazzling  light 
Which  blinded  Death  and  put  his  shades  to  flight. 
’Twas  thus,  amid  Elysium’s  liquid  plains. 

Ye  banished  grief,  and  sooth’d  Life’s  feverish  pains ; 

3 


16 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOITL. 


’Twas  thus,  amid  the  gloom  of  ancient  Night, 

Your  Spirits  sprung,  exultant,  into  light ! 

Yet  still  the  mortal  and  th’  immortal  part 
Conjoint,  must  sink  ’neath  Death’s  unerring  dart ; 
'And  thus  your  glowing  proofs  must  fade  away, 
Cloud-like,  before  calm  Reason’s  brighter  ray.’^ 

So  speaks  the  Doubter — shall  We  tamely  yield. 
And,  like  to  vanquish’d  wrestlers,  quit  the  field  T 
Shall  We  ’neath  airy  strokes  submit  to  bow. 

Grief  in  our  heart,  and  Shame  upon  our  brow  ? 
Forbid  it,  holiest  Hope — thou  still  shalt  smile 
On  our  dim  way,  and  half  our  cares  beguile  ; 
Upborne  by  thee,  pale  Unbelief  we  meet. 

And  victors,  view  her  writhing  at  our  feet ! 

Though  like  bright  streams  which  from  one  fountain 
Sparkling  in  light  beneath  the  summer  sun, 

The  Spirit  and  her  Partner  still  partake 
Of  joy  or  grief,  each  for  the  other’s  sake ; 

Though  from  the  ruby  lips  soft  accents  flow, 

When  the  full  heart  embodies  forth  its  wo; 

Though  mellowed  beauty  lights  the  laughing  eye. 
When  Pleasure’s  fairy  cup  is  sparkling  high, — 
These,  like  the  notes  the  bland  Musician  flings 
Harmonious,  from  his  harp  of  thousand  strings, 
Respond  in  sympathy — melodious  still. 

The  Great  Enchanter  tunes  it  at  his  will — 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


17 


And,  when  his  glowing  fingers  strike  no  more 
The  golden  wires,  the  melody  is  o’er  ; — 

Deem  not,  that,  ’mid  the  sinking  billows  toss’d, 

The  Child  of  Music  is  for  ever  lost. 

Though  still,  the  soundless  Instrument  remains  ; 

No  longer  sign  of  Pleasures  or  of  Pains ! 

What  ! were  the  Soul  the  offspring  of  decay, 

Then  would  she  wither  with  the  with’ring  clay ; 

Yet  do  we  find  when  Death  himself  is  near. 

And  his  grim  Horrors  palpably  appear, 

The  Immortal  Spirit,  in  the  mortal  strife. 

Bursts  the  dread  gloom  and  brightens  into  life  ! 

If  each  were  of  the  like  material  made, 

Then,  when  this  breathing  World  is  wrapt  in  shade. 
And  Morpheus  from  his  cloudy  throne  descends. 

And  o’er  our  wearied  forms  his  wing  extends, 
Gemm’d  with  Lethean  dews,  which  bring  repose. 
And  all  the  portals  of  the  Senses  close  ; 

Sleep  would  be  dreamless — the  dull  God  would  bind. 
In  poppied  chains — the  Body  and  the  mind. 

Mark  now  that  radiant  Bird  of  Paradise  ! 

Plum’d  for  her  flight — she  gains  upon  the  skies. 

And  scaling  Heaven’s  illimitable  dome. 

Exults  to  find  the  Universe  her  home  ! 

But  if  corporeal  be  the  human  Mind, 

Parts  there  must  be  innumerably  join’d ; 


18 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOIJL. 


Each  separate  one  must  will,  conceive,  design, 

This  to  the  right,  that  to  the  wrong,  incline ; 

Thus,  like  opposing  tides  that  rush  to  meet, 

Swift  to  engage — still  swifter  to  retreat. 

Dashing  on  high  their  silver-beaming  spray. 

Each  will  proud  power  usurp,  and  none  obey. 

The  smiling  bond  of  Unity  undone. 

Discord,  the  realm  of  Peace  shall  overrun : 

Hence  then  the  thought,  that  Mind  must  waste  away, 
The  subtle  sport  of  perishable  clay  ! 

Shiver’d  Life’s  glassy  chain,  the  Spirit  springs 
From  earth,  and  waves  on  high  her  starry  wings  ! 

Thus  Reason  speaks,  her  heaven-directed  ray 
Chases  the  shades  of  sceptic  Doubt  away, 

Enkindles  Hope,  whose  never-dying  charms, 

Beam  on  the  soul  in  Nature’s  last  alarms. 

And  o’er  the  pallid  brow  and  closing  eye 
Pour  living  lustre  that  shall  never  die ! 


THE 

IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 

PART  II. 


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ANALYSIS  OF  PART  II. 


Hope  of  Immortality  apostrophised. — Genius  of  Religion  introduced 
— Allusion  to  those  doctrines  which  have  brought  Life  and  Immortality 
to  light. 


SIXTH  ARGUMENT. 

Reflection  on  the  combined  powers  of  the  Intellect  and  the  Imagination, 
impressing  us  with  the  conviction  of  its  Immortality, 

The  evolution  of  the  feelings,  emotions,  and  intellectual  operations 
of  the  Soul,  illustrated  by  the  w^ellings  of  the  desert  fountain. — Address 
to  these  combined  Powers. — The  immutable  distinction  betwixt  Vir- 
tue and  Vice  delineated. — ^Instance. — Caracalla. — ^Vastness  of  the 
Soul* — Her  sounding*  the  depths  of  Immensity. — Inference. — Immor- 
tality. 


SEVENTH  ARGUMENT. 

The  power  of  the  Soul  in  giving  life  to  inanimate  objects,  proving  her 
own  plentitude  of  that  principle. 

Summer  Noon. — ^Moonlight  Scene. — Inference. 


22 


ANALYSIS  OF  PART  H. 


EIGHTH  ARGUMEHT. 

The  power  of  Conscience, — Remorse  pointing  to  future  retiibution. 
Death-bed  s«ene.— Inference. 


NINTH  ARGUMENT.^ 

The  progressive  nature  of  Mindy  showing  its  capability  for  eternal 
duration. 

Natural  objects  depicted,  each  in  their  kind  arriving  at  perfection. — 
Apostrophe  to  Life,  on  the  supposition  of  Annihilation. — Proof  of  the 
ever-rising  glories  of  Mind,  in  the  prospects  of  Society  as  delineated  by 
prophetic  Bards  and  departed  Benefactors  of  mankind. — Allusion  to 
political  Freedom,  blended  with  the  development  of  our  moral  Sympa- 
thies.— Desert  scene. — The  fall  of  Tyranny, — Picture  at  Sea. — The 
dying  Patriarch. 


TENTH  ARGUMENT. 

The  mysterious  darkness  which  hangs  over  the  moral  worlds  contrasted 
with  the  benevolence  of  God,  forcing  upon  us  the  conclusimiy  that  since 
He  is  Goodness  this  gloom  will  be  dispelled  in  a future  state  of  exist- 
ence. 

Combination  of  epithets  as  applied  to  the  inferior  part  of  the  creation, 
proving  Sublime  Benevolence. — Man,  alone,  marring  the  universal  joy. 
— Wisdom  proclaims  Futurity. 


ELEVENTH  ARGUMENT. 

HOPE. 

The  happiness  of  the  brutal  tribes  in  comparison  of  man,  on 
the  supposition  of  Annihilation.— “ The  Pleasures  of  Hope.” — In- 
ference. 


ANALYSIS  OF  PART  II. 


23 


TWELFTH  ARGUMENT. 

The  unequal  distribution  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  this  life^  having 
reference  to  another. 

Greece. — Death  of  Socrates. — Tribute  of  gratitude  to  the  Memory  of 
the  Scottish  Martyrs. — Scene  among  the  mountains. 


THIRTEENTH  ARGUMENT. 

^^Intimations  of  immortality  from  early  reminiscences.'^ 

Desert  scene,  illustrative  of  feelings  which  arise  on  the  recollection  of 
early  years,  when  Mirth,  Hope,  and  Innocence  seem  to  blend  their  in- 
fluences to  brighten  the  scenes  of  Life. — Spot  of  early  reminiscences 
described. — Apostrophe  to  the  Genius  of  Religion! — Conclusion  of 
Part  the  Second, 


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THE 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


PART  II. 

Hail,  glorious  Hope  ! eternal  and  sublime, 

To  rise  triumphant  o’er  the  wreck  of  Time  ! 

Celestial  Comforter — illustrious  Guest ! 

Still  find  thy  home  within  this  troubled  breast ; 
Soothe  it  through  life,  and,  with  thy  balmy  breath, 
Pour  incense  round  it  in  the  vale  of  Death ; 

Nor  leave  it  there,  but  tend  the  Spirit’s  flight. 

Divine  Companion ! to  the  realms  of  light ! 

See  from  afar  yon  starry-vested  form. 

That  sweeps  like  moonlight  through  the  misty  storm, 
Gath’ring  new  splendour  as  she  onward  flies. 

Like  the  young  Dawn  that  purples  round  the  skies ; 
And  from  her  airy  urn  of  rosy  hue. 

Scatters,  benignant,  showers  of  honied  dew; 

While  ’neath  her  aromatic  breath.  Earth’s  bow’rs 
Ope  their  green  halls — and  wake  the  sleeping  flow’rs, 
And  the  white  fountains,  and  the  sounding  streams. 
Laugh  in  the  light  of  her  empurpling  beams  ! 


/ 


26 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OP  THE  SOUL* 


Onward  she  moves,  majestic,  onward  still. 

Changing  her  course,  like  changing  clouds,  at  will : 
List,  her  melodious  accents  ! how  they  flow. 

In  silver  gushings,  on  the  world  below ! — 

Stranger  to  Earth — I come,  enshrin’d  in  light, 

To  pierce  the  gloom  of  man’s  protracted  night ; 
Lone  native  of  a holier,  happier  sphere. 

Unsought,  I come  ! to  gild  the  mental  year : — 

On  to  the  goal — thy  steadfast  course  pursue. 

Still  brighter  scenes  shall  burst  upon  thy  view ; 

Till,  like  a lark  high-soaring  from  the  plain, 

In  blazing  light  shall  end  thy  darkling  strain.” 

Celestial  Visitant ! thy  heavenly  pow’r 

Shall  cheer  us  in  Life’s  darkest,  stormiest  hour  ; 

In  pain  and  sorrow,  we  thy  love  have  felt. 

And  at  thy  shrine  in  holy  rapture  knelt ; — 

Yes ! while  the  haughty  World  did  pass  us  by, 
With  deeper  love.  Thou  bless’d  us  from  on  high. 
Yes  ! cheer’d  by  Thee,  we  will  the  theme  prolong, 
Till  light  shall  burst  upon  our  ending  song ! — 

As  some  pure  fount,  which  sun-beams  only  kiss. 
Wells  forth  its  waters  in  the  wilderness ! 

E’en  so  the  Soul  on  all  around,  above. 

Sheds  the  rich  gushings  of  its  deepest  love  ! 

Hopes  and  despairings — sympathies  and  fears — 
Feelings  of  joy — and  thoughts  that  gender  tears  ; — 


'THE  IMMORTALITY  OP  THE  SOUL. 


Passion — which  Life’s  illumin’d  sky  enshrouds, 

Or  gilds  her  atmosphere  with  golden  clouds, 

Form  the  bold  features  of  what  Doubt  would  deem 
A fleeting  shade — a most  delusive  dream  ! — 

Mark  how  it  can  collect,  combine,  divide ; 

These  thoughts  selected — Those  are  thrown  aside. 
Behold  its  attributes — how  wondrous  they  ! 

Bold  to  resist — submissive  to  obey  ! — 

Will,  Reason,  Conscience,  hold  their  triple  throne. 
And  claim  the  glorious  kingdom  as  their  own  ! — 

Di  vine  Triumvirate  ! — through  rolling  years, 

Your  sceptre  like  the  Prophet’s  rod  appears, 

Green  in  eternal  youth — nor  wasting  Time, 

Nor  chilling  Doubt,  nor  soul-benumbing  Crime, 

Nor  Wealth,  nor  Pomp,  nor  world-subduing  Power, 
Can  blast  the  bud,  or  violate  the  flow’r  ! 

Hail!  heavenly  opiate  ’mid  the  pain,  the  strife. 

The  gloom  that  shades  the  banqueting  of  life. 

Thou,  in  the  reddest  cup  of  Virtue’s  woes, 

Minglest  thy  balm,  and  lull’st  to  soft  repose. 

Oh,  vain  attempt  amid  the  battle’s  roar. 

To  drown  the  voice  that  cries  for  evermore  1 
Vain  the  red  trophies  from  the  gory  plain. 

Where  rampant  War  exults  above  the  slain; 

4 


28 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL, 


And,  foulest  stain  on  man ! with  servile  breath, 
Nations  can  dare  to  laud  the  wholesale  death  ! 

Vain  the  bright  lustre  of  the  regal  hall — 

Glares  the  dread  mandate  from  the  storied  wall  ! 

And  o’er  the  mantling  cup,  the  glassy  eye 
Too  well  reveals  the  Spirit’s  agony  ! 

Such  the  wild  horror,  such  the  dark  dismay, 

That  scowl’d  upon  thy  life’s  too  lengthened  day, 

King  of  the  thousand  Isles  that  gem  the  deep. 

From  Stamboul’s  shores  to  Calpe’s  rugged  steep  ! 

The  last  long  shriek  still  rung  upon  thine  ears, 
Unmellowed  by  the  sweep  of  distant  years : — 

The  daily  banquet  placed  thee  side  by  side 

With  him  thou  slew’st — thou  blood-stain’d  Fratricide, 

Divine  Triumvirate  ! — ’tis  thus  your  pow’r 
Extends  through  life,  to  Nature’s  parting  hour ; 
Judges  unerring  ! Legates  of  the  sky  ! 

Thus  you  proclaim  our  Immortality  ! — 

If  the  pure  Spirit  were  a mortal  thing. 

Say  whence  the  pow’r  she  boldly  wields  to  fling, 

In  thought,  aside  this  sin-soil’d  robe  of  clay, 

And  speed  like  light  along  the  skiey  way ; 

Rounding  innumerous  worlds  with  circling  sweep, 
And  coursing  o’er  heaven’s  star-bespangled  deep ; 
Bursting  the  barriers  of  Creation’s  line. 

With  might  that  speaks  its  origin  divine. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


29 


And  bounding  onward — onward  still  to  fly, 

Till  droop  her  pinions  in  infinity? — 

Pale  child  of  Terror  ! from  the  dust  arise, 

Nought  but  a Demi-god  can  mete  the  skies  ! — 

Gaze  on  heaven’s  gorgeous  canopy — traverse. 

On  circling  wing,  the  rounded  universe ; 

And  on  the  route  of  thy  celestial  way, 

Mark  well  its  splendours,  and  its  pomp  survey, 

’Tis  summer  noon  ! The  ethereal  charioteer 
Has  climb’d  the  loftiest  steep  in  his  career. 

And  from  his  golden  turret,  hung  on  high. 

Pours  in  full  floods  his  radiance  down  the  sky. 
Windless  the  heavens — the  circumambient  air, 
Moveless,  proclaims  that  Mightiness  is  there. 
Breathless  the  world — as  with  a mantling  pall. 

Silence,  in  grandeur,  has  envelop’d  all ; 

Hush’d  is  the  torrent’s  voice — the  insect’s  wing, — 
Death  reigns — vain  thought  I— ’tis  Beauty  slumbering  ! 

Lo  ! from  their  shadowy  sleep  the  hills  arise, 

A mellow’d  lustre  bright’ning  round  the  skies  ; 

Now  has  the  orbed  Queen  who  rules  the  night 
Walk’d  o’er  the  mountains,  with  her  silver  light 
Soothing  the  Darkness — who,  in  mildest  mood, 

Meets  her  caress — and  deigns  thus  to  be  woo’d ; — 
Has  the  pale  maiden  gain’d  her  skiey  tow’r. 

That  topples  in  the  Heavens,  at  midnight  hour — 


so 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Transcendent  scene — lo  ! silence  deeper  still 
Enwraps  the  universe,  all  beautiful. 

These  worldless  glories, — say,  do  they  unfold 
The  powT  that  moves  the  tiniest  wing  of  gold? 

No,  they  are  dead  ; but,  prodigal,  the  Soul 
Breathes  o’er  the  mass,  and  animates  the  whole. 
Illustrious  proof! — the  silence  of  the  sky 
Unfolds,  proud  Man  1 thine  Immortality. 

If,  when  the  span-length  term  of  life  be  o’er. 

We  sink  into  the  tomb,  and  are  no  more. 

Whence,  ask  we — whence  may  the  fierce  pang  proceed 
That  follows  fast  upon  each  guilty  deed. 

While  from  the  bed  of  death  are  heard  to  rise 
Groans  of  remorse  and  penitential  sighs  ? 

’Tis  conscience  speaks, — the  messenger  who  brings 
Wrath  in  her  face,  and  horror  on  her  wings ; 

Illumes  with  fiery  light  the  fixing  eye. 

And  sternly  murmurs — Immortality  I 

Behold  this  beauteous  world  of  all  fair  things : 

The  living  weed,  the  shrub,  the  flow’r  that  springs 
Beside  the  crystal  streamlet  in  the  vale  ; 

The  forest  trees — the  green  harps  of  the  gale  : — 

These  ’neath  the  fost’ring  of  th’  immortal  skies, 

Each  in  their  kind,  to  full  perfection  rise. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Go  ! mark  the  unfolded  flocks  that  freely  roam 
This  sphere-built  globe — the  woods  and  caves  their 
home ; 

Descend  and  view  the  Nations  of  the  deep, 

Which  through  its  waves  like  clouds  illumin’d  sweep 
Behold  the  painted  People  of  the  air, 

Wheeling  in  free  and  feathery  grandeur  there — 

The  golden  Children  of  the  sunny  ray. 

That  spring  to  life,  and  die  along  with  day ; — 

These  in  their  narrow  span  their  end  attain, 

And  gently  mingle  with  the  dust  again — 

Complete  their  bliss — The  Everlasting  Sire 
The  mandate  gives — they  sickeii  and  expire. 

Farewell,  thou  checquer’d  chase  of  pain  and  strife  ! 
Thou  cup  of  tears,  which  men  who  live  call  Life  ! 
Farewell  thy  boasted  bliss,  which,  mantling  high, 
Sinks  to  the  depths  of  deepest  agony  ! 

Hearts  riven — hopes  blasted — friendship  but  a name 
Vice  blazon’d  by  the  trumpet-tongue  of  Fame: 
Virtue — the  best,  the  holiest  gift  of  heaven — 

Back  to  her  native  home  in  terror  driven  : — 

True  Love,  with  which  the  young  heart  gushes  o’er, 
Chill’d  at  its  source,  and  seal’d  for  evermore. 
Millions— (Oh^  tell  it  not  beneath  the  sun  !— 

The  heavens  will  weep  !) — Millions  the  sport  of  onb:  ! 
These  be  the  spots  beneath  thy  pictur’d  veil, 

Thou  painted  Cheat ! Ay ! Truth  confirms  the  tale, 

4# 


32 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Haiirglorious  Wisdom  ! hail,  ecstatic  Bliss  ! 

And  are  your  brightest  visions  come  to  this  ? 

Deem  not,  ye  Impious — ye  who  never  knew 
The  glowing  wish,  the  sigh  to  Nature  true — 

Deem  not  that  through  the  sunless  realms  of  Time, 
There  soar’d  not  souls  of  sympathy  sublime. 

Who  from  the  lofty  heights  of  Thought  could  scan, 
Down  rolling  years,  far  happier  days  for  man. 

Yes ! even  now”,  methinks  their  songs  I hear, 
Prophetic,  falling  on  my  ravish’d  ear ; 

Mellow’d  as  music  o’er  the  moon-lit  deep, 

When  wailing  winds  have  lull’d  themselves  to  sleep, 
And  the  wool-crested  waves  forget  to  roar. 

Breaking  in  balmy  murmurings  round  the  shore. 

Hail,  happy  Earth  ! bright  pilgrim  of  the  skies — 
Pure  home  of  love,  and  love-fraught  sympathies  ! 

Alas  ! too  long  bedimm’d  with  human  tears. 

In  light  resplendent  now  thine  Orb  appears  ; 

No  longer  shalt  thou  mourn,  once  bleeding  World — 
The  starry  flag  of  Freedom  is  unfurl’d. 

Nor  o’er  the  placid  regions  of  the  West, 

Where  the  lorn  Dove  first  found  an  ark  to  rest, 

Do  we  now  mark  its  glittering  folds  display’d : 
Repose  thy  millions  ’neath  its  ample  shade  ! 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL.  3S 

Hark  ! o’er  the  barren  waste  where  Silence  reign’d, 

Or  with  fierce  yells  the  ear  of  Night  was  pain’d, 

Where  blood-pursuing  tigers  held  their  sway, 

Or  desert-robbers,  far  more  fierce  than  they, 

Songs  on  the  wings  of  Morn  ascending  rise. 

And  Evening  incense  wanders  round  the  skies. 

Say ! what  these  ruined  piles — these  mould’ring  walls, 
On  which  the  shadowy  mist  of  twilight  falls ; 

While  through  yon  ragged  archway  wails  the  breath 
Of  the  low  night-winds  mutt’ring  words  of  death  ? 

The  strong-holds  these,”  responds  the  golden  Lyre, 
Where  Freedom  saw  proud  Tyranny  expire.” 

Bland  is  the  Zephyr’s  breath ; the  hurricane 
Rouses  no  more  the  terrors  of  the  main ; 

The  drowsy  helmsman  on  his  watch  may  sleep, 

So  soft  the  gale,  so  tranquil  is  the  deep ; 

Nor  winds  nor  waves  the  joyous  bark  delay — 

No  heart  is  sad — no  home  seems  far  away. 

All  glowing  impulses,  around,  above. 

Speak  to  the  soul  unutterable  love ! 

Burst  is  the  binding  chain — those  links  are  riven 
Which  to  the  depths  of  thousand  hearts  were  driven  ; 

In  conscious  virtue  bold,  Man  walks  the  earth 
Erect,  rejoicing  in  his  second  birth. 


34 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Such,  sacred  Wisdom  ! — such  the  holy  time, 

When  thou  shalt  walk,  majestic  and  sublime, 

Around  this  circling  world — when  o’er  its  skies 
The  radiant  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall  rise. 

Who,  in  this  dawn  of  human  virtue,  flings 
Light  from  his  face,  and  healing  from  his  wings.” 

These  were  the  songs,  and  this  the  sacred  strain. 
Which  rose  through  ancient  Night — nor  rose  in  vain  ; 
And  still  the  lofty  mind  and  generous  heart 
Expansive  grew,  till  Fate’s  relentless  dart. 

Aim’d  by  that  shadowy  Hand  which  spreads  the  gloom 
Of  Death  and  primal  Chaos  round  the  tomb. 

Struck  them  : — like  eagles  in  their  tow’ring  flight, 

They  reel’d  to  earth,  and  sunk  in  endless  night — 

Hence,  impious  thought ! — Though  the  dull  brutes  mar 
claim 

Nought  to  ensure  a never-dying  name  ; 

The  Child  of  Reason  may  with  beaming  eye 
Gaze  on  the  living  glories  of  the  sky. 

And  feel  the  growing  rapture,  and  adore, — 

Since  rising  Mind  shall  live  for  evermore. 

Look  at  that  hoary  sire,  whose  silver  hairs 
Stream’d  on  the  breeze  of  his  pure  mountain  airs, 

Like  lines  of  sun-light  darting  from  the  shroud 
That  veils  their  source,  and  forms  the  radiant  cloud. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


35 


See  ! as  it  nears — that  spirit-quelling  hour, 

When  o’er  this  frail  frame  Death  exerts  his  pow’r — 
Tranquil  as  balmy  sleep,  celestial  Grace 
Dwells  in  his  heart,  and  brightens  on  his  face ; 

And,  like  the  broadening  Sun  that  gilds  the  wave, 

His  parting  soul  expands  upon  the  grave. 

Prescience  Divine  ! that  penetrates  the  gloom 
Which  Sin  has  spread  so  deeply  round  the  tomb ; 
Proclaiming  loud — that,  ’neath  eternal  day. 

The  bloom  of  Virtue  ne’er  shall  know  decay  ! 

The  laughing  sky — the  music  of  the  deep  ; 

The  dallying  gales  that  o’er  the  meadows  creep ; 

The  moonlight  dancing  on  the  waters  blue  ; 

The  morning  mountains  rob’d  in  rosy  hue  ; 

The  gentle-minded  lilies — the  calm  bow’rs  ; 

The  fragrant  breath  of  ever-blooming  flow’rs  ; 

The  droning  beetle — the  glad  humming  bee  ; 

The  frugal  ant — the  equal  and  the  free; 

The  gilded  insects  at  their  airy  play  ; 

The  small  birds  warbling  on  the  dewy  spray  ; 

The  lark.  Monopolist  of  light  and  song; 

The  ethereal  King,  that  loves  to  soar  along ; 

The  home-stead  guard,  that  greets  the  opening  dawn ; 
The  sportive  hare  that  gambols  o’er  the  lawn ; 

The  mingled  swell  of  happiness  that  floats 
Around,  above,  pour’d  from  a thousand  throats !— 


36 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Mark  well  the  phrases — words  of  love  intense, 

They  shadow  forth — Sublime  Benevolence  ! 

Say,  ’mid  this  scene  of  humble  Nature’s  joy. 

Which  strife  of  human  hearts  can  ne’er  destroy, 

Why  should  the  bitter  blasts  of  passion  rage. 

From  youth,  to  riper  years  and  hoary  age? 

Why  should  the  blessed  charities  of  life 
Bleed  like  the  victim  ’neath  the  murderer’s  knife. 

By  those  of  loftier  soul  and  nobler  mien, 

Who  walk  like  demi-gods  the  glowing  scene  ? 

Oh,  vain  demand  ! — Can  Reason’s  feeblest  light 
Pervade  the  gloom  that  darkens  primal  Night? 

Or  can  her  bounded  line  explore  the  sea. 

Soundless  and  shoreless,  of  Eternity  ? 

Wisdom  proclaims — In  sorrow  and  in  tears. 

Worth  walks  the  world,  and  spends  her  hapless  years 
Pass’d  the  beclouded  valley  of  her  life, 

Joy  springs  from  wo,  and  harmony  from  strife.” 

If  man  were  but  the  creature  of  an  hour. 

Awhile  to  bloom,  and  perish  like  the  flow’r. 

Most  wretched  of  the  wretched  would  he  be — 

The  child  of  chance,  the  slave  of  apathy  ; 

The  lowliest  tribes  that  o’er  the  desert  roam, 

Free  in  their  course  as  is  the  billow^s’  foam, 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OP  THE  SOUL, 


3 


Might  claim  o’er  him  pre-eminence  of  birth, 

And  walk  the  Masters  of  th’  unmeasur’d  earth. 
Chain’d  to  the  feelings  of  the  present  hour, 

Thoughts  of  the  dismal  future  have  no  pow’r 
To  break  their  slumbers,  or  disturb  their  rest ; 

The  conscious  craving  sated — they  are  blest. 

Calm  in  their  dimness — now  they  sport  and  play ; 

A moment  pass’d — they  breathe  their  lives  away. 

Were  th’  Immortal  Spirit  like  to  this. 

Prescience  of  Death  were  pain,  instead  of  bliss  ! 

But  in  the  future  purest  joys  are  placed, — 

“ Man  never  Z5,  but  always  to  he  bless’d.” 

Thy  Pleasures,  Hope  ! by  Him  so  sweetly  sung, 
Who  claims  the  golden  harp  and  honied  tongue ; 
Thy  Pleasures,  ’mid  the  anguish  and  the  gloom. 
That  shadow  life,  and  hover  o’er  the  tomb; 

Thy  Pleasures,  pointing  still  to  worlds  on  high, 

Gild  the  dark  path  to  Immortality  I 

Alas  ! how  wildly  rugged  is  the  road 
That  leads  to  Virtue,  and  to  Virtue’s  God  ! 

Who  would-  dare  ’tempt  to  scale  that  hanging  steep 
In  life,  if  Death  were  an  Eternal  sleep  ? 

Who  from  the  lap  of  Vice  would  deign  to  rise, 

If  Virtue’s  temple  were  not  in  the  Skies  ? 


38 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Pass  o’er  the  mould’ring  dust  of  many  an  age, 

And  scan  the  roll  of  the  historic  page  ; 

See  how  bold  Crime  rear’d  high  her  guilty  head, 
While  Virtue  sunk  dishonour’d  ’mong  the  dead. 

Oh  ! how  polluted  on  the  roll  appears 
Thy  silv’ry  name.  Queen  of  Eternal  years  ; 

Immortal  Greece  ! Fain  would  I pass  thee  by. 

And  speak  thy  failings  only  with  a sigh ; — 

Thou  art  the  Nurse  who,  with  thy  storied  lays, 

Taught  the  young  heart  to  seek  unfading  bays  ; 

Lull’d  on  the  pillow  of  thy  fragrant  breast. 

Pain  racks  no  more,  and  anguish  sinks  to  rest. 

Fancy’s  fair  worlds,  and  Passion’s  are  thine  own, 

’Tis  there  thou  reign’st  supreme,  and  rear’st  thy  throne. 

Bright  land  of  Gods ! and  soil  of  god-like  men ! 

Thy  cloudless  Heavens  were  wrapt  in  darkness,  when 
Thy  Wisest  eyed,  serene,  the  fatal  cup. 

And — weep  not — with  calm  mildness,  drank  it  up  : 

Dark  draught  of  chilling  coldness, — freezing  Life 
In  the  red  channels  of  her  bubbling  strife  ! 

And  filming  o’er  that  mind-illumin’d  eye. 

Which  spoke  on  earth  the  language  of  the  sky. 

Did  Nature  mourn  the  sage  ? oh,  no  ! in  light 
She  rob’d  her  form  to  view  the  murderous  sight. 

On  old  iEgena’s  rock,  and  Adra’s  isle. 

The  God  of  gladness  shed  his  parting  smile,” 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL, 


39 


And  seem’d  to  linger  o’er  the  purple  wave, 

To  smile  in  mock’ry  on  a Felon’s  grave ! 

And  now  my  wayward  heart  would  turn  to  thee, 

Thou  fairy  land  of  my  nativity  ; 

Swan  of  the  Northern  waters,  rearing  high 
Thy  Crested  head  in  mountain  majesty  ! 

I would — but  no ! — oh,  take  one  sacred  tear, 

All  / can  place  upon  thy  Martyrs’  bier. 

Unbroken  be  their  rest ! Their  mould’ring  dust. 

In  holy  Hope  committed  to  thy  trust, 

Is  hallow’d  still,  and  down  the  tide  of  years 
Borne  are  their  virtues  by  a Nation’s  tears. 

Yes  ! kindlier  rays  than  smote  th’  Athenian’s  tomb 
Gild  the  wild  Cairn  that  marks  their  place  of  doom, 
While  the  lone  clouds  that  pass  with  scurrying  sweep. 
Fold  their  pale  wings,  and  tarry  there  to  weep ; 

And  with  their  summer  shade  and  wintry  showers 
Tend  round  the  rolling  year  the  “ Dell  of  Flowers  !” 

If  Virtue  thus  can  form  no  lasting  guard 

’Gainst  ills  below — say,  whence  her  bright  reward  ? 

Whence  but  from  fairer  worlds  beyond  the  skies. 

In  which  her  fadeless  beauty  never  dies  ! 

Who  that  now  speeds  him  o’er  the  scorching  plain 
Sighs  not  to  reach  the  palmy  shade  again — 


5 


40 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


To  snatch  the  luscious  tamarind  from  the  bough, 

And  in  the  white  fount  bathe  his  burning  brow  ? 
Painful  his  steps — the  gaunt  train  he  may  meet ; 

The  scaly  serpent  hisses  at  his  feet ; 

The  tall  Sun,  blazing  in  his  mid-day  tow’r, 

Shoots  his  red  darts,  and  rules  the  fiery  hour  ; 
Nought  round  the  horizon’s  glowing  rim  appears — 
No  passing  cloud  to  shadow  o’er  his  fears  ; 

Still’d  is  the  swooping  vulture’s  piercing  cry  ; 

Day’s  flaming  Star,  alone,  is  in  the  sky. 

Who  that  thus  speeds  him  o’er  the  desert  plain 
Sighs  not  to  reach  the  palmy  shade  again  ? 

So  with  the  tear-dimm’d  eye,  which  through  the  haze 
That  veils  the  past  its  golden  prime  surveys ; 

When  o’er  Life’s  waters,  of  unclouded  hue. 

Nought  but  the  balmy  breeze  of  Pleasure  blew  ; 
When  Youth,  Joy,  Innocence,  went  hand  in  hand. 
And  smiling  Hope  and  Fancy  led  the  band  : 

And  all  this  shining  world,  around,  above, 

A boundless  temple  seem’d  of  blandest  love  ! 

Romantic  spot ! endear’d  by  every  tie 
Which  binds  the  Soul  to  things  that  cannot  die  ; 
Romantic  spot ! where  first  in  purple  light 
Nature,  in  lawless  grandeur,  met  my  sight, — 

My  gushing  heart  to  thee  a debt  would  pay, 

Could  I but  frame  a long-remember’d  lay ; 

Were  mine  the  pow’r  of  holy  Nature’s  Bard, 

To  chaunt  the  strain,  thine  were  the  rich  reward. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


41 


Hills  proudly  towering  from  the  surging  plain, 

On  whose  bald  tops  the  snows  of  years  remain ; 
Tall  crags,  that  from  the  lowly  valleys  rise, 
Piercing,  like  massy  pyramids,  the  skies  ; 
O’er-hanging  cliffs,  that  cleave  the  middle  air. 

And  seem  to  swing  their  trembling  horrors  there ; 
Pale  rocks,  that  by  the  fiery  bolts  of  Heav’n, 

Like  Pel  ion  stand, — down  to  the  centre  riv’n. 
Which,  opening  wide  their  arms  at  intervals. 

Give  to  the  ‘ lights  of  eve’  their  sparry  halls. 

And  flame  and  sparkle  in  their  cavern’d  deeps, 
Where  Beauty  in  the  lap  of  Terror  sleeps  ! 

‘ Still  lakes  of  silver,’  where  the  mountains  blue. 
Upturn’d,  in  toppling  grandeur  meet  the  view  ! 
Mirrors  in  which  the  waving  forests  seem 
To  deck  their  tresses, — so  would  Fancy  deem ; 
Coves,  which  the  rays  of  the  far-darting  Sun 
Have  never  pierc’d,  to  soil  their  shadows  dun ; 
Though  the  green  ivy,  and  the  wood-bine  wild, 
There  twine  their  arms, — to  make  the  terror  mild ; 
While  in  the  outward  porch,  the  splashing  brook. 
With  Mirth  and  Beauty  pictur’d  in  its  look. 
Through  the  rent  chasm  beholds  the  sun-lit  sky. 
And  laughs,  and  languishes,  like  Woman’s  eye  ! 
Dark  granite  funnels,  where  red  heather  bells. 

Or  yellow  cowslip,  or  green  sorrel  swells ; 

Long  rows  of  myrtle — cliff-depending  pines, 

On  which  the  ruddy  light  of  evening  shines  ; 


42 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Nooks  where  the  purpling  daisy  lifts  her  eye  ; 

Dells  where  the  waters  of  cool  fountains  lie  ; 

Streams  running  crystal, — hurrying  on  to  meet, 

And  blend  their  torrents  at  the  mountain’s  feet ; 

Not  sluggish,  as  the  Southern  rivers  be, 

But  rushing  on,  like  eagles,  to  the  sea ! 

These  are  thy  beauties,  spot  of  earliest  Love, 

Where  Earth  still  smiles  below,  and  Heav’n  above. 

Still,  like  the  ray  which  through  the  tempest  gleams. 
They  soothe  my  heart,  and  gild  my  feverish  dreams  ; 
And  though  to  riper  years  they  can  no  more, 

By  visual  sight,  Life’s  infant  joys  restore, 

Yet  may  we  mark  in  Memory’s  mellow  eye 
A backward  beam,  that  guides  us  to  the  Sky  ! 

Pass’d  are  the  shining  plains  where  Reason’s  ray 
First  caught  our  sight,  and  shone  upon  our  way  ; 

Led  us,  exultant,  from  the  dreary  tomb, 

And  chased  away  the  black’ning  shades  of  Doom. 

A loftier  Guide,  celestial  and  sublime. 

Still  bears  us  up  beyond  the  bounds  of  time ; 

Proclaims — The  pall  of  Fate,  ere  long  unfurl’d, 

Shall  shade,  in  double  death,  a ruin’d  world ; 

The  Moon  shall  leave  the  night, — the  God  of  day, 
Wrapt  in  a robe  of  blood,  shall  pass  away  ! 

But,  ’mid  the  pangs  of  Nature’s  dying  throes. 

The  Soul  shall  gain  the  Source  from  whence  she  rose,  ” 


43 


THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Yes,  martyr’d  Sage  ! well  did  thy  heav’n-lit  eye 
Pierce  the  dim  mists  that  veil’d  futurity  ; 

Well  didst  thou  say,  that  in  the  lapse  of  years. 
Death  and  the  Tomb  would  smile  away  their  fears ; 
And  well  thou  said’st  a radiant  Sun  should  rise. 

To  gild  the  gloom  that  veil’d  our  mental  skies. 

That  Sun  has  ris’n,  and  with  his  dazzling  light 
Has  put  the  spectre-train  of  doubts  to  flight; 

That  Sun  has  ris’n,  nor  were  thy  hopes  too  high, — 
Lo  ! Heaven  proclaims  Man’s  Immortality  ! 


; V i ■ ■ ' >iU  b it.  / / J.  ' " ,.,;  j'TfF)  .'J^V:  'J'"  i 

,,  ^i';  -I  ;■■:  ' ' ■ !^  n;.::>  j(VW 

^ J i '■‘■•'’^  I'-'-'r'  •ft-' :<T 

,;  - .,  , ■:  -.,  . ■ ,",  ■',  ■ • ■ . - ,.  , , ^ , 

-f-  •---■/  r 

■ ■' '-■  , 

',?5^*:5':^<’-''-'>V  U.  'i’  ' ■ 


L>ri  /. 

. .i. 


■-.J  , ■ i . .".'>-C::  * ''  ■ > • 

5fW 

ri‘\  tr  •'.  ,-!i:^.j.»4i  -i«'i 

.‘it  to*  ,(mcm!v.\ ‘.'witH  rifwi'rti  ■■i;  ■.  ■ i ■!  ’>»*##»  <l 

4Ea0iii^r^«tT  yJm^A 


NOTES  ON  PART  I. 


Page  2,  line  17. 

And  Earth  receding  from  her  swimming  eye, 

‘ Earth  recedes  before  my  swimming  eye.”  Barbauld. 

P.  3, 1.  10. 

Milky  splendour, 

“Via  lactea.” — Ovid. 

P.  6,  1.  17. 

iVo  more  shall  Ahriman,  ^c. 

For  a full  account  of  these  deities — Ahriman,  Ormuzd,  and  Mithras 
— the  reader  is  referred  to  the  eloquent  Gibbon. — New  edit.,  chap,  viii,, 
p.  76* 


P.  8, 1.  2. 

Betah*s  how'^rs, 

A rich  vale  on  one  of  the  western  branches  of  the  Ganges. — See  B., 
Mod.  Geo. 


P.  9, 1.  3. 

Ask  Agra  steeps. 

The  car  of  Juggernaut  need  only  be  mentioned  to  prove  the  truth  of 
the  text. 

For  the  better  illustration  of  the  scenes  described  in  the  text,  the 
reader  is  referred  to  Researches  in  India,  Heber’s  Journal,  and  the 
Asiatic  Transactions. 


46 


NOTES  ON  PART  I. 


P.  11,  1.  8. 

Where  barren  Zarah, 

Zarah,  or  Zaharah,  the  great  northern  desert  of  Africa,  extending 
along  the  southern  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  nearly  1200  miles.  Its 
breadth  is  estimated  at  800. 

P.  11,  I.  17. 

Dying  flesh  or  dull  mortality, 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher. — ‘‘  Faithful  Shepherdess.*^ 

P.  12,  1.  2. 

Asphodels  of  Fame. 

Shellet. 


P.  12, 1.  15. 

Illustrious  Theban  ! fyc, 

Epaminondas.— See  Plutarch. 

P.  13, 1.  21. 

Green  Isle  of  beauty,  SfC, 

Vide  Gibbon,  new  edit.,  chap.  xi.  page  116. 

P.  14,  1.  1. 

- - - - the  King  of  Light 

Enshrines  his  Godhead. 

The  magnificent  Temple  of  the  Sun,  at  Palmyra  j the  ruins  of  which 
still  excite  wonder. 

P.  14, 1.  4. 

Breathe  their  mute  thoughts, 

“ And  dead  men 

Hang  their  mute  thoughts  on  the  mute  walls  around.** 

Shelley. 


47 


NOTES  ON  PART  I. 


P.  15, 1.  14. 

Saturnian  years. 

Vide  Ovid,  Met. 

P.  15, 1.2  0. 

Your  soft  deliciousness. 

White  deliciousness.” — Keats. 

P.  18, 1.  3. 

ThuSf  like  opposing  tides. 

The  Author  has  frequently  witnessed  in  the  German  Ocean  the  phe- 
nomenon alluded  to  in  the  text,  where  the  rapid  sweep  of  the  eastern 
portion  of  the  tide,  setting  in  from  the  Atlantic,  meets  with  fury  the 
western  and  more  slowly  progressing  portion.  A like  phenomenon 
occurs  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay. 


■ it, 

,x  ysiAt  m 

. U J . ' 

; . ;.V*; 


,--  •>  '\A?0  4i0^ 

.'  <J('  •••  '>*fV 


• *».'  A . . . . • 5^;,  fi  ri T 


NOTES  ON  PART  IL 


Page  27,  line  2. 

Gilds  Lifers  atmosphere, 

Shelley. 


P.  27,  1.  12. 

Your  sceptre  like  the  PropheVs  rod  appears. 

Numbers,  chap.  xvii.  ver.  8. 

P.  28, 1.  9. 

King  of  the  thousand  Isles. 

Caracalla. — He  is  termed  by  Ossian,  Son  of  the  King  of  the  World. 
We  may  perhaps  be  allowed,  by  a like  license,  to  make  use  of  the  epi- 
thet already  mentioned. — Vide  GiBson,  new  edit.,  chap.  vi.  page  51 . 


P.  31, 1.  6. 

Painted  People  oj  the  air, 

‘‘Pictgeque  volucres.” — Virgil. 

P.  31,1.  15- 

Thou  cup  of  tears,  which  men  who  live  call  Life, 
**  Thou  painted  veil  which  men,”  &c. — Shelley. 

P.  33, 1.  17. 

J^or  winds  nor  waves, 

“ Rocks,  winds,  and  waves,  the  shatter’d  bark  delay  ; 
Thy  heart  is  sad — thy  home  is  far  away.” — Campbell. 


50 


NOTES  ON  PART  II. 


P.  36, 1.  20. 

Awhile  to  bloomy  and  •perish  like  the JlowW. 

“ Frail  as  the  leaf  in  Autumn’s  yellow  bow’r.” — Campbell. 

P.  37, 1.  17. 

Thy  Pleasures^  Hope  ! by  Him  so  sweetly  sung. 

His  name  need  not  be  mentioned,  whose  splendid  Genius  has  changed 
a mere  emotion  into  a burning  Passion. 

P.  38, 1.  10. 

Thy  Wisest  eyed,  serene,  the  fatal  cup. 

Socrates. 


P.  38, 1.  20. 

And,  weep  not ! 

Cicero  says,  that  he  could  not  peruse  Plato’s  account  of  the  death  of 
Socrates  without  shedding  tears.  And  has  not  the  lapse  of  more  than 
eighteen  centuries  rather  replenished  than  exhausted  the  deep  Foun- 
tains of  human  love  ? 


P.  38,  1.  27; 

On  old  AEgena^s  rock,  and  Adra^s  isle. 

The  God  of  gladness  shed  his  parting  smile. — Byron. 

P.  39,  1.  14. 

Gild  the  wild  cairn. 

Cairn,  a rude  monument. 

For  the  description  in  the  text  the  author  is  indebted  to  an  admirable 
painting,  by  Mr.  Thompson,  of  Duddingstone,  entitled  “ The  Martyr’s 
Tomb.”  The  Writer  would  likewise  take  this  opportunity  of  stating, 
that  if  he  has  been  at  all  successful  in  depicting  any  of  the  bolder  fea- 
tures of  Nature,  this  he  in  a great  measure  owes  to  the  conversations  of 
his  respected  friend,  William  Douglas,  Esq.,  Edinburgh,  who  is  no  less 
a true  Poet  than  an  eminent  Artist. 

Scarcely  had  the  above  been  sent  to  press,  when  the  writer  learnt 


NOTES  ON  PART  II. 


£1 


that  his  lamented  friend  was  no  more.  Life ! thou  wouldst  truly  be  a 
dark  valley,  were  not  thy  shadows  illumined  with  the  hopes  of  Immor- 
tality. 


P.  40, 1.  21. 

Romantic  spot. 

The  spot  described  in  the  text  is  Dunkeld,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tay, 
Perthshire,  anciently  the  See  of  the  patriotic  and  classic  Gavin  Douglas 
— a spot  endeared  to  the  author  by  many  pleasant  recollections.  The 
reader  who  has  visited  the  scene  will  best  know  whether  the  description 
be  exaggerated. 

P.  40.  1.  27. 

Holy  Nature’s  Bard. 

W.  Wordsworth,  Esq. — “ That  Priest  of  nature.” — It  is  proper  to 
state,  that  the  last  Argument  in  the  Poem  was  suggested  by  his  beauti- 
ful ode,  entitled,  Intimations  of  Immortality  from  Recollections  of 
early  childhood.” 

P.  41,  1,  10. 

The  lights  of  eve. — Coleridge. 

P.  41,1.  13. 

Still  lakes  of  silver. 

“ Acque  stagnant!,  mobili  cristalli.” — Tasso. 

Leigh  Hunt's  Translation, 


P.  41,1.  17. 

The  far-darting  Sun. 
*E#rJ?/?<5Aos  ’AjnoWoiv. — HoMER. 

P.  43,  1.  1. 

Yes,  martyr'd  Sage  ! 
Socrates. — Vide  Plat.  Phced. 

P.  43, 1.  7. 

That  Sun  has  risen. 

**  1 am  the  light  of  the  world.” — John  viii.  12, 

6 


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mutability. 


The  Winter  came,  and  the  winds  blew  high, 

And  the  fields  were  wrapt  in  snow ; 

And  the  mighty  streams,  and  the  little  brooks, 

And  the  rills,  forgot  to  flow. 

For  the  Frost’s  cold  hand  had  chain’d  them  down, 
And  the  breath  of  the  Storm  had  past 

With  its  hurricane  sweep,  o’er  their  waters  clear, 
And  their  music  had  breath’d  its  last. 

But  the  balmy  Spring  came  round  again. 

And  the  brooks,  and  the  rills,  and  the  streams, 

Like  the  rosy  dawn  of  Youth’s  bright  years, 
Started  forth  from  their  icy  dreams  ! 

And  the  sleeping  flow’r,  in  its  earthy  bow’r, 
Upsprung  from  its  snow-wreath’d  pillow,— r 

When  the  radiant  Eye  of  the  golden  sky 
Glanced  brightly  on  the  billow. 

6* 


56 


And  Summer  was  seen,  with  her  mantle  green, 
Adorning  the  new-wak^d  earth ; 

As  a beauteous  child,  by  its  mother  mild. 

Is  deck’d  for  the  day  of  mirth. 

And  Autumn  came,  with  her  locks  of  flame, 

And  her  brow  adorn’d  with  gems 

Of  pearly  dew,  to  the  wreath  that  grew. 

Like  bees  to  the  honied  stems. 

Thus  change  was  renew’d,  and  the  chase  pursu’d, 
Round,  round  the  gilding  year ; 

And  nought  stood  still,  nor  good  nor  ill, 

Till  all  sunk  on  Earth’s  cold  bier ! 

Ah  ! ’tis  with  me  as  the  Seasons  be  ; 

My  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn,  are  past, 

And  Winter  now  hath  assum’d  his  reign. 

And  chill’d  bright  Hope  with  his  blast. 


57 


TO  A STAR, 


Most  maidenly  and  fair  Star  ! I would  woo 
Thy  soothing  light,  whilst  thou  art  wandering  through, 
Like  a pale  bride,  the  gorgeous  halls  of  heaven. 
Spreading  thy  silver  drapery  o’er  gray  Even, 

Yes  ! would  I check  thy  course  and  bid  thee  stay, 

To  rest  thee,  beauteous  Pilgrim,  on  thy  way — 

Thy  weary  way,  which  lies  through  yon  abyss 
Of  boundless  blue — yon  Sun-sown  wilderness  ! 

Where  art  thou  travelling  ? Is  thy  speed  of  flame 
Bearing  thee  on  to  lands  beyond  a name  ? 

Stay,  lovely  Wanderer  ! stay  thy  whirling  flight, 

And  soothe  awhile  the  horrors  of  grim  Night ; 

Who,  like  a baby  on  the  nurse’s  knee. 

Grows  mild  by  gazing.  Mildest ! upon  thee. 

To  many  things  I’d  liken  thee,  fair  Star, — 

To  a Sun-silver’d  islet,  that  afar 
Doth  diadem  the  deep  of  Western  Seas, 

Which  murmur  round  the  palmy  Cyclades ; 

To  a pure  bark  of  pearl,  that  scuds  along 
The  curling  waters  to  the  sound  of  song ; 


58 


And  the  bright  lesser  lights  that  follow  thee, 

To  golden  cock-boats  on  a sunny  sea ; 

To  a fair  sheep-dam  on  a mountain’s  brow, 

With  snowy  lambs  about  her, — such  art  thou  ! 

But  thou  art  vanishing,  thou  pal’s t away 
Deep  in  yon  Orange  sky, — before  the  day ; 

Struck  in  thy  central  glory — thou  are  driven 
Down — -down  into  the  depths  of  boundless  Heaven  ? 
And,  like  a dream  of  youth,  thou  passest  by 
Shadowless  Star  ! into  Eternity  ! 


SONNET, 


Upon  the  verge  of  a thick  tangled  wood, 

When  all  was  brightness,  and  the  sun  rode  high, 
By  the  gnarPd  root  of  an  old  Lime  I stood. 

That  toss’d  its  bold  head  far  into  the  sky ; 

And  I was  then  in  melancholy  mood. 

No  living  thing  could  I discern  as  nigh 
Which  might  upon  my  solemn  thoughts  intrude. 
And  in  the  silver  light  beneath  me  lay, 

In  beautiful  repose,  the  ruins  gray 


59 


Of  hoary  piles,  within  whose  mouldering  walls 
Rest  all  my  fathers  in  the  Dead’s  still  halls ; 
(How  calm  they  rest  within  these  halls  of  clay  !) 
And  then  I wish’d  that  I like  them  should  be 
’Tomb’d  near  the  spot  of  my  nativity ! 


SCENE, 

FROM  Arthur’s  seat,  near  Edinburgh. 
May,  1827. 


’Tis  a dull  summer  eve — the  light  of  day 
In  leaden  splendour  fades  along  the  deep, 

On  whose  dark  waters  there  are  seen  to  sleep. 

Like  drowsy  wave-birds,  with  their  pennons  gray 
Folded — full  many  a gallant  bark  and  gay. 

Black  are  the  Heavens — Night  mantles  o’er  the  sky 
Like  a huge  fun’ral  pall ! no  glittering  star 
Spangles  the  death-formed  coverlet, — the  war 
Of  Earth,  and  Air,  and  Ocean,  hath  pass’d  by ; 
Hush’d  is  the  lark’s  shrill  song, — the  bleating  cry 


60 


Of  the  stray’d  Lamb  comes  floating  down  the  vale, 
Borne  on  the  slow  wings  of  the  flagging  gale ; 
Now  it  has  reach’d  yon  misty  mountain  steep, 

And  the  pain’d  dam  responds  the  mournful  tale ! 


THE  FOUNTAIN. 


And  do  I see  thee  once  again, 

As  beautiful  and  still 
As  when  I trac’d  thee,  lucid  Fount ! 
Along  thy  sparkling  rill  ? 

Is  it  a dream  ? and  am  I come. 

After  the  lapse  of  years, 

To  view  thee  in  thy  pearl-strewn  cell,' 
And  stain  thee  with  my  tears  ? 

And  art  thou  still  unchang’d — the  same 
As  when,  in  happier  hours, 

I sported  round  thy  brimming  marge, 
And  loll’d  among  thy  flow’rs  ; 


61 


And  gaz’d  into  thy  crystal  depths, 

And  thought  thy  gentle  swell 
Rose  from  the  Naiad’s  fragrant  breath, 
That  ’neath  thy  wave  might  dwell? 

And  still  do  thy  pure  waters  rise, 

And  thy  green  border  sip, 

E’en  as  a goblet  sparkling,  full 
Of  red  wine,  to  the  lip  ? 

’Tis  even  so ; nor  cold,  nor  heat. 

Nor  lapse  of  rolling  years, 

Has  wasted  thy  bright-streaming  urn 
Of  its  pure  crystal  tears  ! 

Oh ! that  it  were  but  thus  with  him 
Who  gazes  on  thee  now, 

As  he  was  wont  in  other  days, 

With  sunshine  on  his  brow  ! 

Ere  yet  he  knew  the  World’s  gray  shore, 
And  left  that  tranquil  home, 

Where  gladness,  like  a summer  bird. 
Unbidden,  still  would  come  ! 

And  fairy  thoughts,  like  spring-charm’d 
flowers, 

In  innocence  would  rise. 


62 


In  endless  trains,  to  fill  the  soul 
With  love-fraught  sympathies ! 

‘‘  Nay,  droop  not  so,  thou  sorrowing  Heart, 
Nor  flow  not  thus  thy  tears ; 

Deep  ruffling  with  their  bitter  drops 
The  purity  of  years  !” — 

Sweet  Fountain,  fare  thee  well ! I know. 
From  thy  now-placid  spring. 

That,  for  the  deepest  wound,  swift  Time 
Brings  balm  upon  his  wing ! 


THE  LAST  OP  HIS  RACE. 


The  sun’s  red  orb  is  sinking  fast,  upsprings  the  cooling 
breeze. 

The  melodies  of  even-tide  are  whispering  thro’  the 
trees ; 

Hark ! ’tis  the  spirits  of  the  Dead — they  beckon  me 
away. 

Nor  longer  by  the  lonely  flood  do  they  permit  my  stay. 


63 


And  is  it  so,  and  are  all  gone — the  high-souPd  and  the 
free? 

And  are  the  thousands  of  my  Tribe  concentred  now 
in  me  ? 

Oh,  withering  thought !— beat  loud  my  heart,  and  haughty 
as  at  first-— ^ 

Beat  till  the  purple  springs  of  life  in  agony  shall  burst ! 

Away  to  yonder  rugged  cliif — say ! what  salutes  thee 
now  ? 

Uncloud  thine  eye,  and  wipe  away  the  cold  drops  from 
thy  brow> 

Down  thro’  the  forest’s  deepening  shade,  amid  the  sacred 
gloom 

Of  meeting  boughs,  mine  eyes  behold  the  consecrated 
tomb : 

Dust  of  my  Fathers  ! holy  still,  amid  the  lapse  of  years. 

Receive  this  latest  offering— the  tribute  of  my  tears  ! 

Wo  to  the  hour  when  first  ye  met,  in  all  your  wild 
array. 

The  Stranger  on  your  rushing  streams,  and  beckoned 
him  to  stay ! 

Poor  Children  of  the  untrodden  wild ! ’twas  Nature  taught 
you  so, 

The  wand’rer  and  the  exil’d  one — ^ye  ne’er  had  found  a 
foe  : 


1 


64 


Alas ! alas ! the  fault  was  yourSj  ’'twas  Ms  alone  the 
crime  ; 

Which,  like  the  ruin’s  shadow,  grows  dark  ’mid  the  roll 
of  Time. 

Yes ! ’tis  The  Mighty  Spirit  speaks ; fast  comes  the 
avenging  hour, 

When  Justice  shall,  full-quiver’d,  walk  the  palaces  of 
pow’r. 

Wake  ! Spirit,  wake  ! nor  longer  rest — ^’tis  thine  to 
avenge  the  Just: 

The  blood  of  slaughtered  Innocence  invokes  thee  from 
the  dust. 

Gaze  from  this  rugged  steep — alas  ! ’tis  solitude  alone 

That  marks  the  dwellings  of  my  Tribe,  and  claims  them 
as  its  own. 

Where  are  the  Patriarchs  of  my  race,  the  quiver’d  and 
the  bold. 

Who  used  to  stem  the  battle-tide  as  onward  still  it 
roll’d ; 

And  ’mid  the  shouts  of  victory,  from  carnage-cover’d 
fields 

Upbore  the  dying  warriors,  upon  their  bloody  shields. 

Go,  ask  the  emerging  foam  from  the  river’s  rushing 
sweep. 

Or  the  bubble  on  the  boiling  wave  fast  sinking  in  the 
deep ; 


65 


These  be  the  emblems  of  my  race — the  Stranger  came, 
they  pass’d 

Swift  from  their  forest-halls  as  flies  the  storm-cloud  in 
the  blast 

Look  at  the  bright  and  mirror’d  lake — how  beautiful,  how 
still 

It  sleeps  beneath  the  deepening  shade  of  yonder  evening 
hill! 

Nought  ruffles  now  with  circling  swell  the  azure  of  its 
breast ; 

But  like  a slumbering  babe  it  lies  enfolded  in  its  rest ! 

The  bounding  wild-deer,  in  its  chase  of  freedom,  in 
amaze 

Stands  by  the  margin  of  the  flood,  upon  its  form  to  gaze ; 

And  wonders  whence  the  stillness  comes  that  lingers 
all  around. 

Unbroken  now  by  human  lips,  or  trumpet’s  silver  sound. 

Away  she  flies,  the  startled  deer — what  made  her  speed 
so  fast  ? 

It  was  the  sere  leaf  from  the  tree  that  rustled  as  it 
pass’d ! 

Alas,  how  chang’d! — beat  loud  my  heart,  and  haughty 
as  at  first — 

Beat  till  the  purple  springs  of  life  in  agony  shall  burst ! 


6^ 


^Tis  o’er ; the  clay-cold  damps  of  death  are  on  the  war- 
rior’s brow 

And  the  burning  pulse  no  longer  beats  in  exultation 
now: 

Prone  by  his  Fathers’  dust  he  lies,  the  last  of  all  his^ 

RACE, 

And  soon  the  gently  dropping  leaves  will  form  his  hiding- 
place. 


EUDEMUS  AND  ELLENORE,. 


An  eagle,  glittering  in  the  golden  light. 

Slow  round  the  tall  clifi'  urg’d  his  sailing  flight ; 
His  radiant  plumage  glist’ning  in  the  ray. 

Flung  from  its  sides,  like  Ocean’s  silver  spray. 
Wheeling  majestic  on  the  broad  blue  air. 

The  imperial  Bird  claim’d  proud  dominion  there  f. 
Hush’d  were  the  forests,  the  impetuous  floods 
Alone  resounded  through  the  silent  woods. 

Earth  own’d  his  pow’r — the  empire  of  the  sky 
Was  his — far  stretching  through  infinity^ 


67 


Most  royal  Guardian  ! there  the  regal  nest 
He  watch’d,  with  all  the  parent  in  his  breast ; 

And  with  his  shadowing  pinions  o’er  it  flung, 

Above,  even  like  a crimson  cloud,  he  hung, — 

A cloud  that  spreads  its  glories  in  mid  air, 

When  the  blue  circle  of  the  Heavens  is  bare. 

Thou  heart  instructor,  Nature  ! ’tis  from  thee 
We  learn  the  lessons  of  Sublimity. 

Yes,  and  by  thee  unseal’d,  we  learn  to  know 
How  deep  the  springs  of  human  kindness  flow ; 

Since  thine  own  bird,  the  fiercest  in  the  sky. 

Can  w^ake  our  souls  to  boundless  sympathy  ; — 

Which  makes  us  feel  close  Brotherhood  with  all 
That  lives  and  breathes  upon  this  varied  Ball  ! 

So  thought  Eudemus,  as  he  sorrowing  stood 
On  the  steep  margin  of  the  rushing  flood 
That  past  him  swept,  most  prone  in  its  career, 

And  roll’d  its  well  known  music  on  his  ear. 

Born  ’mong  the  hills — each  streamlet  in  its  turn 
Oft  had  he  trac’d  to  its  pellucid  urn. 

And  mark’d  the  unseen  brook,  in  its  lone  springs. 
Panting  to  spread  its  azure-colour’d  wings, 

Ere  it  might,  fearless,  leap  the  cliff,  and  flow 
Through  the  deep  chasm  that  boil’d  and  foam’d  below. 
And  still  he  lov’d  to  trace  it  till  it  cross’d 
The  mountain  line,  and  in  the  lake  was  lost. 

7* 


68 


The  deepening  gloom  upon  its  shaded  banks. 

Where  Water-Lilies  rang’d  their  virgin  ranks. 
Unveiling  their  calm  beauty  to  the  sight 
Of  the  great  Sun,  that  shone  with  checquer’d  light 
Through  clumpy  openings,  where  the  Hazel  stood. 
And  nodded  o’er  the  ever- laughing  flood, 

And  shook  in  merriment  its  tresses  green, 

When  dallying  Zephyrs  wanton’d  o’er  the  scene. 
And  curl’d,  and  curl’d  again,  the  toying  wave 
That  sought,  or  seem’d  to  seek,  its  pebbled  cave  ! — 
This  deepening  gloom  he  loved,  and  there  to  woo 
Most  modest  Nature,  veil’d  from  common  view. 

The  Earth,  the  Waters,  and  the  Firmament, 

Home  to  his  heart  their  choicest  beauties  sent ; 

And  feelings  of  deep  love  they  gender’d  there, 
Making  the  bliss  of  all  his  tenderest  care ! 

Upon  the  rushing  stream  he  stood, — the  God  of  day 
Had  more  than  gain’d  the  zenith  of  his  way, 

And  down  the  western  Heavens  his  chariot  roll’d. 
Gilding  the  forest  brown  with  tints  of  gold. 

And,  like  the  Parthian  in  his  arrowy  flight, 
Backward  he  rain’d  his  beams  of  purple  light  f 
Oh,  ’twas  a glorious  eve — more  glowing  skies 
Ne’er  roof’d  the  bow’rs  of  sinless  Paradise  ; 

When  flow’rs,  spontaneous,  deck’d  the  verdant  sod. 
And  Man,  the  fallen  noWy  then  walk’d  with  God  ! 


69 


He  thought  of  partings,  for  he  must  again 
Cross  the  blue  waters  of  the  rolling  main  ; 

Not  now,  as  erst,  in  boyhood’s  smiling  years. 

When  the  young  eyes  were  form’d  for  transient  tears. 
And  Grief  sat  lightly  on  the  laughing  brow. 

Nor  rankled  in  th’  impassion’d  heart  as  now. 

Winter  had  past,  and  incense-breathing  Spring 
Shook  Love’s  first  balm-drops  from  her  purple  wing. 
Awaken’d  by  her  touch,  the  sleeping  flowers 
Open’d  their  eyelids  in  their  cradling  bowers. 

And  hail’d  the  Wanton ! Down  the  hollow  dell 
The  “ early  budders”  rose  with  gentle  swell, 

Fearful  to  catch  the  first  glance  of  her  eye. 

That  beam’d,  inconstant,  in  an  April  sky ; 

And  if  lone  things  can  speak,  they  seem’d  to  say 
“ Alas  ! too  beautiful,  thou  wilt  not  stay.” 

High  on  the  mountain  tops,  a hardier  brood 
Scorn’d  to  implore  the  Maiden  in  her  mood 
Of  merriment  and  tears, — they  boldly  spread 
Their  whit’ning  blossoms  round  the  tall  cliff’s  head, 
And  seem’d  to  dare  the  anger  of  her  eye, 

Charg’d  with  the  radiance  of  a sapphire  sky. 

The  streams,  unmanacled,  like  Slaves  set  free, 

Ran  onward,  blust’ring,  boist’rous,  in  their  glee. 

The  rock-embosom’d  lakes  of  skiey  hue 
Leap’d  in  the  light,  and  curl’d  their  waters  blue  ; 


70 


And,  like  the  Old  Man*  by  Pallene^s  shore, 

Kept  changing  still  the  form  they  loved  before  ; 
Now  bright,  now  blue,  now  purple,  and  now  gold. 
They  mock’d  the  steady  eye,  like  that  Man  Old  ! 

Spring  had  return’d  ; but  ere  the  Sister  reign 
Should  shed  its  roses  o’er  the  verdant  plain. 

And  give  most  full  completion  to  the  year, 
Eudemus  must  to  sunnier  regions  steer. 

And  guide  his  bounding  bark  through  Indian  Isles, 
O’er  which  an  everlasting  Summer  smiles. 

On  by  the  brook  he  wander’d, — gain’d  the  source 
Whence  its  pure  waters  urg’d  their  arrowy  course, 
And  lean’d  in  rapture  o’er  that  mirror  bright 
That  shone  and  sparkled  in  the  golden  light. 
Around  the  mossy  margin  of  the  well. 

Where  gentle  forest  Fays  might  love  to  dwell, 
Daisies,  those  earliest  children  of  the  Spring, 
Embracing  stood  in  an  empurpled  ring; 

Yea,  all  the  favourites  of  that  Beauty  rare 
Flaunted  their  sky-embroider’d  glories  there. 

He  rose, — the  sighings  of  the  evening  breeze 
Murmur’d  in  fitful  breathings  through  the  trees, 

And  to  the  musing  wand’rer  seem’d  to  say — 

‘‘On,  on,  a nobler  scene  demands  thy  stay  !” 


* Proteus. 


71 


He  gain’d  the  cove,  he  reach’d  the  rocky  bow’r. 
When  the  red  light  announc’d  the  evening  hour ; 
And  feelings,  deep  and  holy,  charm’d  to  rest 
The  farewell  flutt’rings  of  his  anxious  breast. 

Embosom’d  in  the  rock,  a flow’ry  nook, 

Where  ran  the  silver  threadings  of  a brook, 
Hasting  to  hide  ’neath  the  enamelled  turf 
The  hoary  spumings  of  its  angry  surf ; 

Like  the  sly  maiden  that  would  fain  appear 
Bedeck’d  in  smiles  all  round  the  changing  year. 
And  shine,  at  least,  in  her  fond  Lover’s  sight. 
Constant — a Moon  in  a clear,  cloudy  night — 

Four  giant  Planes,  with  interlacing  arms. 

Shielded  from  blightings  and  “ all  weather  harms,” 
And  in  the  height  of  summer  lushness  threw 
A canopy  athwart  Heaven’s  stainless  blue. 

And  ’neath  their  tremulous  shadows  form’d  a spot 
Where  every  weary  Care  might  be  forgot. 

Is  it  the  guardian  Spirit  of  the  bow’r 
That  lingers  there  amid  the  twilight  hour. 

To  shed  her  poppied  dews  o’er  the  bright  eyes 
Of  scented  roses  and  anemonies  ? 

Can  it  be  Dian,*  silver-crested  Queen  ! 

Reposing  here,  who  dignifies  the  scene  ? 


t Qvid,  Met,  Lib,  4, 


72 


Fresh  from  the  chase,  reclining  at  her  feet, 

With  lolling  tongue,  behold  that  gray-hound  fleet ! 

But  where  her  golden  quiver — where  her  bow? 

And  her  bright  Oreads,  shining  in  a row  ? 

Ismenian  Crocale,  to  bind  her  hair, 

And  Nephele  and  Hyale  the  fair  ? 

And  Cyane,  to  bring  the  limpid  wave 

From  yonder  fountain,  glimmering  in  the  cave  ? 

And  flow’ry-kirtled  Rhanis,  in  her  turn 
To  bear,  with  Arethuse,  the  pearly  urn — 

Most  gentle  Arethuse,  whose  virgin  fears 

Shall  change,  ere  long,  her  form  to  stainless  tears  ! 

Vain  dreams  of  Fancy,  hence  ! a milder  Pow’r 
Than  quiver’d  Dian  dignifies  the  bow’r. 

Eudemus  gazed  in  rapture,  and,  unseen. 

View’d  with  unwearied  eye  her  changing  mien ; 

And  mark’d  each  feeling  as  it  came  and  went. 

Like  shifting  clouds  across  the  firmament ; 

For  the  fair  creature,  in  her  lonely  mood. 

Here  scann’d  the  classic  page  in  solitude. 

Spirit  of  Beauty ! oft  he  gazed  on  thee 
O’er  the  blue  waters  of  the  rolling  sea ; 

He  hail’d  thee  in  the  glorious  shapes  that  rise 
Round  the  red  margin  of  far  Tropic  skies, 

Where  pillar’d  upon  pillar’d  clouds  unfold 
Their  masses — white,  vermilion,  purple,  gold  ! 

He  watch’d  thee  at  the  blushing  break  of  day, 

When  through  the  Emerald  Isles  he  sped  his  way, — 


The  Emerald  Isles  that  gem  the  glittering  deep^ 
Where  farthest  Chinvan’s*  yellow  waters  sleep ; 

He  mark’d  thee  in  each  hue,  each  varying  dye 
That  gilds,  with  rapid  wing,  the  moon-lit  sky ; 

He  saw  thee  in  the  insect’s  gilded  wing. 

He  heard  thee  in  the  wild  bee’s  murmuring  ; 

Thou  cam’st  into  his  soul  in  the  soft  lay 
Chaunted  from  dewy  boughs  at  dawning  day ; 

He  felt  thee  in  the  harmony  that  rose 

From  Music’s  breath,  and  watch’d  thee  to  its  close  ; 

He  lov’d  to  trace  thee  in  the  rosy  child. 

That  ‘‘  toss’d  in  sunny  light  its  ringlets  wild,” 

And  from  soft  gleaming  eyes  rain’d  forth  its  love, 
Ere  Earth  might  soil  the  Heaven-descended  dove  ; 
He  saw  thee  in  the  lofty  thought  that  cast 
Love’s  mantle  o’er  the  failings  of  the  past ; 

And  hail’d  thee  in  the  Truth-illumin’d  mind. 

That  with  deep  sympathy  embrac’d  all  human  kind ! 

Yet,  like  the  storm-toss’d  bird,  his  flutt’ring  breast 
Still  felt  a void — a home  wherein  to  rest ; 

And  now  he  found  it — Strange  that  he  should  deem 
The  chequer’d  past  a radiating  beam 
To  lead  him  onward,  by  its  guiding  pow’r 
To  find  the  solace  of  this  ’witching  hour  ! 

How  beautiful  she  looked  ! the  deep  rich  hue 
Of  her  soft  eyes  outshone  the  sapphire’s  blue, 


* Chin  van,  a Port  on  the  Yellow  Sea. 


And  spoke  a wordless  feeling — like  pure  Wells 
They  seem’d,  where  Heaven’s  resplendent  image  dwells  | 
Her  graceful  neck — an  alabaster  spire, 

Round  which  the  young  Loves  led  their  tuneful  choir  \ 
Her  silky  white  hand,  and  her  taper  arm. 

Might  with  their  grace  Olympian  Phidias  charm ; 

Her  brow,  ’mid  ringlets  hid, — her  brow  of  snow. 

Look’d  like  Judean  mountains,  when  the  flow 
Of  golden  rivulets  is  on  them. — Bright, 

Unveil’d,  she  stood — a form  of  Love  and  Light ! 

The  Sun  was  darting  now  his  farewell  ray 
O’er  the  high  cliffs  that  beckon’d  him  to  stay. 

And  on  their  golden  crowns  awhile  remain. 

Ere  he  should  shroud  his  glories  in  the  main — 

He  seem’d  to  linger ; then  behind  the  hill” 

That  spurn’d  the  wave  “ he  dropt,”  and  all  was  still* 

And  yet,  unwearied,  did  the  glowing  page. 

With  its  rich  harmony,  her  soul  engage ; 

While  with  soft  looks  each  glitt’ring  line  she  scann’d, 
That  seem’d  to  brighten  ’neath  her  snowy  hand* 

Well  did  he  mark,  when  Misery  claimed  a sigh, 

The  dewy  lustre  of  her  melting  eye  ! 

And  felt,  unseen,  the  sympathetic  glow — 

The  joy  that  springs  from  soothing  human  wo. 

Her  frown  was  beautiful ! for  summer  skies 
In  stormy  days  are  richest  in  their  dyes. 


^5 


When  to  a part  of  the  sad  tale  she  camo, 

That  told  of  love,  of  faithlessness,  and  shame. 

Her  passion-lighted  cheek  burnt  bright — no  tear 
Bedimm’d  her  eye,  in  majesty  severe  ; 

How  deep  her  feeling ! — the  bright  zone  that  bound, 
In  silver  threads,  her  clust’ring  ringlets  round. 

Burst  its  fair  links,  and  o’er  her  white  neck  roll’d 
Her  shining  locks,  like  streams  of  burning  gold. 

Indignant  Beauty  ! how  supreme  art  thoul 
’Neath  thy  calm  look  the  sternest  heart  must  bow  ; 
With  Virtue  join’d,  thou  can’st  the  tiger  tame. 

Blunt  the  sharp  sword,  and  quench  the  raging  flame  ! 
It  staid  not — soon  the  fii'e  of  passion  flew 
Swift  from  her  soul ; like  drops  of  balmy  dew. 

Which  fall  at  eve  upon  the  drooping  flow’r. 

Her  eyes  of  love  pour’d  forth  the  sorrowing  show’r. 
%***#*## 

Eudemus  lov’d  his  Ellenore — the  flame 
She  quench’d  not,  but,  all  blushing,  own’d  the  same ; 
And  she  had  promised,  ere  three  circling  years 
Had  run  their  round,  to  end  his  love-born  fears. 

Oh,  new-born  love!  celestial  sure  thou  art. 

When  first  thou  thrill’st  the  life-cords  of  the  heart ; 

Of  Joy’s  pure  streams  thou  openest  every  spring. 

And  floods  of  pleasure  to  the  soul  dost  bring ; 

8 


76 


Lost  in  thy  waves,  this  dark  scene  disappears^ 

And  endless  smiles  succeed  to  endless  tears ! 

# * # * ^ * * # 

They  parted — Sorrowing  Memory  would  recal 
That  precious  hour.  As  with  some  secret  thrall, 

Her  beauty  held  him  ; yet  he  could  not  stay. 

Though  something  whisper’d — “ Hie  thee  not  awayJ^ 
Her  golden  locks,  in  wild  diffusion  thrown 
O’er  her  fair  brow,  like  clouds  all-radiant  shone, 

And  then  in  rich  luxuriance  clust’red  round,. 

His  drooping  form  in  their  soft  fetters  bound. 

They  parted— Years  had  in  their  ceaseless  flight. 
Each  pole  obscur’d  in  thrice  alternate  night ; 

And  now  the  radiant  sun  was  riding  high 
In  his  blue  course  along  the  Northern  sky. 

When  to  his  rock-encircled  home  he  came, 

Bless’d  by  the  world,  though  sick  at  heart  of  fame. 
Hope  on  her  rosy  pinions  flew  before. 

And  deck’d  in  smiles  his  beauteous  Ellenore. 

As  to  the  wish’d-for  spot  he  nearer  drew, 

And  his  lov’d  mountains  rose  upon  his  view, 
Flutterings,  unfelt  before,  and  shapeless  fears 
Came  o’er  his  heart — he  sought  in  vain  for  tears ; 
Pantings  within,  and  burnings  of  the  cheek, 

Those  pangs  reveal  which  tear-drops  cannot  speak : 


77 


And  these  were  his.  ^Tis  thus  the  Spirit  knows, 
Heav’n  taught,  the  presage  of  its  coming  woes.* 

The  Sun  had  gain’d  the  ’mid  descending  steep 
Of  the  west  Heavens,  and  urg’d  him  to  the  deep  ; 
Show’rs  of  his  purple  beams  profusely  fell 
O’er  the  green  sides  of  the  illumin’d  dell ; 

When,  faint,  Eudemus  sought  awhile  to  rest. 

And  ease  the  deep-drawn  throbbings  of  his  breast ; 
He  lean’d  against  the  gnaiTd  root  of  a Lime, 

Which  tow’ring  stood  in  splendour  of  its  prime. 

And  rising  proudly  o’er  the  flood  of  years. 

Seem’d  mocking  frail  man  with  his  hopes  and  fears. 
Hush’d  was  the  scene,  for  every  stirring  breath 
Of  the  soft  winds  had  sigh’d  themselves  to  death. 

Slow  o’er  the  mountains  deep-ton’d  notes  were  borne 
Of  solemn  music,  as  of  those  who  mourn ; 

And  still  it  deepen’d,  still  it  came  more  near, 

Then,  with  full  swells  it  burst  upon  his  ear. — • 

The  beauty  and  the  bloom 
Of  flow’rets  fade  away. 

The  night  of  deepest  gloom 
Succeeds  the  brightest  day ! 

Like  sun-beams  on  the  wave, 

Which  there  a moment  quiver. 


^ “Coming  eyenta  east  their  shadows  before.” — Campbell, 


78 


Life  gleams  across  the  grave^ 

Then  vanishes  for  ever  ! 

‘‘Wail ! wail ! the  fairest  bloom. 

That  Life’s  flow’r  ever  bore 
Is  cull’d  to  deck  the  tomb, — 

The  beauteous  Ellenore  !” 

******** 

Years  have  elaps’d,  his  raven  locks  no  more 
Shine  in  their  glossy  splendour  as  before  ; 

His  heart  is  calm,  its  bonds  to  earth  are  riven^ — ^ 
Eudemus  pants  to  meet  his  Ellenore  in  Heavea  I 


SPECIMENS 

OF  AN  UNPUBLISHED  POEM,  ENTITLED 

“THE  SURVEY” 


EARTH. 

Isle  in  Creation’s  shoreless,  endless  sea — 
Home  of  our  race  ! we  gladly  turn  to  thee : 
Yes  ! we  would  trace,  in  their  perennial  flighty 
Thy  shining  foot-steps  round  the  orb  of  light ; 


79 


We  would  explore  the  secret  laws  that  guide 
Thy  rapid  course  o’er  space’s  trackless  tide ; 

.Sure  in  thy  race — like  summer  birds  that  fly 
O’er  unknown  seas,  to  meet  a purer  sky, 

Nor  on  the  bosom  of  the  printless  air 
Leave  aught  to  tell  their  fleeting  shapes  were  there. 
Since  from  the  Hand  that  form’d  thee  thou  wert  cast. 
And  roll’d  obedient  through  the  mighty  vast, 

And  with  thy  giant  shadow  marked  the  way 
For  panting  Time  to  follow  up  his  prey ; 

Undimm’d,  unwearied,  bright  as  when  at  first 
O’er  Heaven’s  immortal  barriers  thou  didst  burst, 
Ethereal  Courser  ! dost  thou  bound  along. 

Third  in  the  race  of  all  the  flying  throng. 

Enamour’d  of  His  smiles  who  rules  the  day, 

With  maddening  pulse,  thou  hiest  away — away  ! 


THE  BIRTH  OF  CLOUDS  AND  RIVERS. 

Behold  Heaven’s  golden  barks,  that  drift  along 
Like  the  mass’d  music  of  harmonious  song  ! 

Whence  come  these  glories  ? which  their  shadowy 
way. 

Thronging  around  the  Charioteer  of  day  ? 

8* 


80 


Shall  they  descend  with  Him  into  the  deep,. 

And  cluster  round  him  in  his  azure  sleep  ? 

And,  when  above  the  waves  his  glittering  crest 
He  rears,  shall  they  attend  him  to  the  west  ? 

Sprung  from  the  blue  depths  of  the  heaving  main, 
Thither,  ye  Clouds  ! must  ye  return  again ; 

Nor  like  the  shiver’d  turret  shall  ye  fall. 

Prone  from  the  steep  heights  of  your  airy  hall.. 

Mark  yon  gigantic  masses,  where  they  throw 
Enormous  shadows  o’er  the  vales  below; 

Yon  Heaven-pil’d  monuments^  where  spirits  roam^. 

And  the  sky-covering  Condor  makes  his  home ; 

There  are  ye  doom’d,  ye  wandering  Clouds,  to  rest,. 

And  veil  in  gloom  the  Mountain-Giant’s  crest,. 

Till  he  awake  from  his  too  tranquil  sleep. 

And  from  his  brow  your  airy  covering  sweep ; 

Then  struck,  like  Arethuse,  with  unknown  fears^ 

Ye  trembling  fall,  and  melt  away  in  tears  1 

Nor  are  you  lost  I a thousand  fountains  throw 
Your  lucent  waters  o’er  the  vales  below. 

These,  with  divided  rills,  transplendent  throng. 

Sweep  down  the  cliffs,  and  hie  with  speed  along. 

Till,  like  dissever’d  friends,  they  meet  again 
In  one  bright  stream,  and  hurry  to  the  main  ! 

*++  Should  the  present  volume  be  deemed  worthy  of  public  notice, 
the  author  may,  at  some  future  period,  be  tempted  to  resume,  or  re- 
model, a subject  as  vast  as  the  universe  itself. 


81 


STANZAS. 


When  clouds  gather  fast,  and  the  prospect  all  dark 
In  gloom  and  in  shadow  is  closing, 

’Tis  sweet  ’mid  the  scowl  of  the  tempest  to  mark 
A spot  where  the  light  is  reposing. 

So  ’tis  with  my  heart,  in  the  lone  hour  of  grief. 
When  Sorrow  and  Anguish  enfold  it ; 

I dream  of  thy  beauty,  then  comes  my  relief 
The  moment  I seem  to  behold  it ! 


THE  BRINGING  UP  OF  THE  ARK. 


Mourn,  for  the  land  is  desolate, 
The  glory  hath  departed ; 
Mourn,  for  the  Holiest  hath  left 
His  chosen,  broken-hearted !” 


82 


So  sung  the  melancholy  train 
Of  Judah’s  fairest  daughters, 

When  Hophni  and  his  brother  fell 
By  Jordan’s  rolling  waters  ! 

’Twas  there  the  star  of  Eli  set ; 

The  Holiest  of  the  holy, 

By  hands  profane,  polluted  stood  ; 

How  mad  their  impious  folly  ! 

Borne  from  its  sacred  resting  place, 

The  Ark  of  Mercy,  guarded 

With  reeking  blades — for  palms  of  peace. 
The  doom  of  death  awarded. 

Yes  ! round  the  rocky  coasts  and  vales 
Of  Palestine,  a wailing 

Was  heard  throughout  the  gloomy  night, — 
Life’s  purple  fountaius  failing. 

The  sun  went  down  in  splendour  there, 

And  left  no  trace  of  sorrow  ; 

How  wan  he  rose  above  the  flood 
Upon  that  fearful  morrow  ! 

The  beaming  eye  low  quenched  in  death. 
The  brow  of  beauty  shaded  ; 

The  lip  whence  Love  his  music  flung 
Cold  silence  now  pervaded. 


The  temple  where  the  Idol  stands, 

With  ghastly  shapes  surrounded ; 
The  temple  reels, — its  thousand  priests 
Lie  low,  abashM,  confounded.- 

High  from  his  shaken  pedestal 
The  impious  God  is  falling, 

His  plague-struck  Minist rants,  alas  ! 

In  vain  for  mercy  calling. 
******* 

Harmonious  sounds  salute  the  ear, 
Along  the  mountains  swelling. 

Like  notes  of  that  sweet  early  bird 
That  loves  the  Sun’s  own  dwelling. 

See  ! as  it  nears,  a sacred  throng 
In  holy  joy  is  bringing 
The  Lost  to  its  most  bless’d  abode, 

And  thus  the  band  is  singing. 

Let  God  arise, — Lo  ! nature  quakes, 
The  enduring  hills  are  riven  ; 

Like  sand  before  the  desert  blast 
His  impious  foes  are  driven. 

He  speaks, — the  rolling  waves  obey. 
The  billows  rise  divided ; 

He  speaks, — the  surges  rushing  meet 
Where  now  those  who  derided  ? 


84 


Rejoice,  rejoice,  ye  mourning  ones  ! 

Lo,  Israel’s  God  hath  spoken ; — 

Philistia  wails,  her  arm  of  pow’r 
Lies  nerveless  now,  and  broken  ! 

Long  have  ye  worn  the  gloomy  veil 
Of  abjectness  and  sorrow  ; 

Arise  ! though  tears  bedim  the  night, 
Bland  joy  salutes  the  morrow. 

Daughter  of  Zion  ! like  a dove. 

Golden  or  silver  crested. 

Adorn’d  with  fadeless  beauty,  thou 
Shalt  walk  forth  starry  vested. 

Nor  shalt  thou  dread  the  wrath  of  man,  ’ 
For  God  himself  hath  spoken ; 

Triumphant  shalt  thou  wield  all  pow’r, 
'J'ill  Sin  and  Death  be  broken  J” 


85 


STANZAS. 


Sweet  vale  among  valleys,  how  oft  have  I sigh’d 
To  reach  thy  green  coverts  again  ; 

Whence  thy  foam-cover’d  stream  like  an  arrow  doth 
glide 

Down — down  to  the  depths  of  the  main  ! 

Oh ! could  I return  but  to  gaze  on  thy  mountains, 

Or  hide  me  within  thy  dark  bowers. 

Or  stretch  me  at  ease  by  thy  rock-gushing  fountains. 
Or  cull  me  thy  wild  forest  flowers ; — 

Methinks  it  would  soften  the  sorrows  that  rise 
O’er  the  heart  in  the  rolling  of  years. 

And  lighten  again  these  once  laughing  eyes. 

Now  darken’d  by  time-gather’d  tears ! 


86 


BABYLON. 


Where,  oh ! where  is  Babylon? 

The  crown  is  ofl'  her  brow, 

And  the  Queen  that  rul’d  o’er  many  lands 
Is  untiarad  now  ! 

Say,  where  is  haughty  Babylon, 

The  home  of  golden  tow’rs  ? 

The  serpent  hisses  in  her  halls. 

The  dragon  in  her  bow’rs  ! 

Where  is  the  proud  destroyer  now  ? 

All  desolate  and  lorn, 

A mould’ring  monument  she  stands. 

To  sate  the  eye  of  scorn  ! 

Where  is  the  sceptred  city,  where? 

The  bittern’s  hollow  cry 
Re-echoes  round  the  reedy  marsh 
Where  broken  columns  lie  ! 

Where,  where  is  haughty  Babylon  ? 

The  deep  pool  mantles  o’er. 

With  silent  wave,  her  gorgeous  domes, 
Babylon  is  no  more  ! 


87 


TO  THE  STARS. 


Ye  sleepless  sentinels,  that  ever  keep 
On  the  steep  heights  of  Heaven’s  aerial  towers 
Your  glittering  vigils,  or  with  silent  sweep 
Rush  in  the  track  of  the  immortal  Hours,— 

Whence  have  ye  lighted  those  eternal  fires 
That  shine,  and  ever  shine,  while  thrones  decay, 

And  men  in  generations  pass  away 

Like  phantoms,  and  the  world  of  life  expires? 

Endless  the  source  from  whence,  in  golden  urns, 

That  radiant  light  ye  draw,  which  ever  burns. 

And  still  will  burn,  and  never  cease  to  shine  ! 
Shadows  of  the  Eternal ! ye  do  tell 
Secrets  most  deep  of  the  Unsearchable ; 

Oh ! shed  your  living  beams  around  this  soul  of  mine. 


# 


88 


PALESTINE. 


Land  of  the  sunny  East,  where  grow  the  olive  and  the 
vine, 

Oh ! what  a charm  of  light  invests  that  hallow’d  name 
of  thine  ! 

Lost  Palestine ! a sorrowing  heart  fain,  fain  would  mourn 
for  thee, 

Then  hang  in  tears  this  broken  harp  upon  the  willow 
tree. 

And  has  thy  splendour  disappeared,  and  is  thy  glory 
gone. 

And  are  thy  marble  tow’rs  of  might  and  palaces  o’er* 
thrown  ? 

And  is  Mount  Zion  desolate,  and  do  no  longer  there 

The  gather’d  of  the  chosen  race  prefer  the  common 
prayer  ? 

And  is  thy  Temple  ruin-struck,  and  does  nougiit  but  the 
name 

Remain  of  what  was  once  thy  pride, — the  bright  Jeru- 
salem ? 

Lost  Palestine  ! thy  might  has  fled,  like  snows  that  melt 
away 

From  off’  the  brow  of  Lebanon  before  the  star  of  day. 


Yes  ! now  thou  art  most  desolate,  and  o’er  the  shaded 
urn 

Of  thy  dead  splendour  does  the  shade  of  ancient  glory 
mourn. 

And  has  the  Star  of  Judah  set  ? and  never  shall  it  rise 

To  shed  its  living  beams  around,  and  gild  thy  gloomy 
skies  ? 

And  has  the  Night  of  Ruin  wrapt  thy  land  as  with  a 
vail  ? 

And  are  the  Sons  of  Israel  heard  to  mourn  with  Egypt’s 
wail  ] 

No  ! though  thy  radiance  has  gone  down,  like  sun-light 
’neath  the  sea. 

And  though  no  more  the  triumph-song  is  raised  aloud 
for  thee, 

Weep  not.  Forlorn  ! the  Sun  of  Pow’r  will  yet  upon  thee 
rise. 

And  with  his  rays  of  purest  light  drive  midnight  from  thy 
skies ; 

Thy  ruin’d  tow’rs  again  shall  rear  their  marble  crests  on 
high, 

And  through  thy  silent  cities  heard  the  shout  of  victory; 

The  Lion  sprung  from  Judah’s  root  shall  burst  thy  bind- 
ing chain, 

And  make. thee  knovr,  Lost  Palestine  ! that  thou  art  free 
again. 

Then  vreep  not,  land  of  the  Forlorn,  for  Zion  yet  shall  be 

The  glory  of  the  living  world — the  bright  home  of  the 
Free ! 


VRB  FILaRIMiLGE  TO  MECCA. 


Allah  ! nov/  the  morning  prayer,  the  morning  pray’r  is 
done, 

And  music  from  the  holy  Mosque  hath  hail’d  the  rising 
sun ; 

And  do  ye  sleep,  ye  faithful  ones,  and  do  ye  sleep  away 

The  golden  moments  that  await  the  coming  birth  of  day? 

Av/ake,  awake ! ye  weary  ones  ; the  Faithful  may  not 
sleep 

When  the  white  Fountain  of  the  morn  is  springing  from 
the  deep. 

Though  long  and  toilsome  is  the  way  ye  have  already 
past, 

The  desert  must  be  seen  ere  Night  o’er  earth  her  sha- 
dow cast ; 

My  camels  now  are  kneeling  by  the  margin  of  the  well, 

And,  hark!  from  yonder  minaret,  the  music’s  dying 
swell. 

’Tis  o’er  ; awake^  ye  v/anderers,  the  Faithful  may  not 
sleep 

When  the  vdiite  Fountain  of  the  morn  is  springing  from 
the  deep ! 

The  pilgrims — they  have  started  from  the  pillow  of  their 
rest, 

And  chaunted  o'er  their  orisons  with  faces  to  the  west  5 


91 


And  they  have  gained  the  river  flood,  and  o’er  its  waters 
past, 

And  reach’d  the  desert’s  rim  as  Night  o’er  earth  her 
shadow  cast. 

Awake ! ye  wanderers,  awake  ! the  faithful  may  not 
sleep 

When  the  white  Fountain  of  the  morn  is  springing  from 
the  deep ; 

For  long  and  dreary  is  the  path  my  camels  have  to  run, 

Ere  the  blue  mountains  of  the  West  receive  the  setting 
sun. 

Oh ! turn  not  thus  your  ling’ring  eyes  to  the  green  plains 
just  cross’d. 

Nor  list  the  music  of  the  stream  in  the  far  distance  lost; 

Nor  deem  the  spreading  palm  shall  cast  its  shadow  of 
repose 

Across  your  burning  path,  to  prove  a respite  to  your 
woes  ; 

For  far  along  these  arid  wastes  our  journey  has  to  run. 

Ere  the  blue  mountains  of  the  West  receive  the  setting 
sun. 

On  through  the  stainless  fields  of  air,  with  his  impelling 
steeds,  • 

The  Day  God  in  his  radiant  car  magnificently  speeds ; 

No  wandering  cloud  appears  to  veil  the  glory  of  his 
face. 

But  boundless  purity  pervades  the  temple  of  all  space. 

9* 


92 


Oh ! for  one  little  speck  to  dash  the  splendour  of  his  rays, 

And  shield  the  weary  on  the  waste  from  his  devouring 
blaze  ! 

Oh ! for  the  desert  fountain,  where,  beneath  its  shadow- 
ing bow’r, 

The  dying  on  the  scorching  sands  might  feel  its  living 
pow’r  ! 

Faint  not,  ye  Faithful ! — see  aloft  in  yonder  purpling 
skies. 

The  golden  domes  and  minarets  of  the  Holy  City  rise ; 

The  dangers  of  the  desert  past — beneath  its  sacred  walls 

Refreshing  streams  shall  greet  your  eyes.  On ! ’tis  the 
Prophet  calls ! 

The  rebel  soul  alone  life’s  scorn  and  agony  endures. 

Embrace,  embrace  the  sacred  shrine,  and  Paradise  is 
yours  ! 


HEBREW  MELODY, 


Tell  me  where  my  love  reposes, 

She  who  dwells  among  the  roses? 

Lo  ! the  purple  light  is  springing ; 

The  turtle  ’mong  the  leaves  is  singing ; 


03 


The  silent  beauty  of  the  palrrij 
Is  waving  ’mid  the  morning  balm  ; 

And  see  ! ’tis  nov/  the  break  of  day^ 
And  the  long  shadows  flee  away 
Tell  me  where  my  love  reposes, 

She  who  dwells  among  the  roses  ? 

When  in  his  might  the  blazing  sun 
Hath  past  the  steeps  of  Lebanon ; 

And,  ’neath  the  flaming  of  his  eye, 

The  tov/rs  of  holy  Zion  lie. 

And  in  the  splendour  of  his  beam 
Her  m.arble  turrets  brightly  gleam ; — ■ 

In  the  cool  depths  of  Shenir’s  mountain. 
Beside  the  springings  of  yon  fountain,  ^ 
That  seems  to  soothe  the  panting  air, 
Welling  its  living  waters  there; 

She,  ’neath  the  shadowings  of  the  rock, 
Was  wont  to  tend  her  feeding  flock  ^ 
Oh,  tell  me  where  my  love  reposes, 

She  who  dwells  among  the  roses  ? 

Daughters  ! ye  fairest  of  the  fair ! 

With  the  soft  eyes  and  shining  hair ; 
Judah’s  ever  blooming  flowers. 
Splendour  of  all  Eastern  bov/ers ; 

Tell  me  v/here  the  brightest  gem, 
Sparkling  in  Beauty  s diadem, 

My  own,  my  fairest,  now  reposes, 

She  who  dwells  among  the  roses  ? 


D4 


Oh ! oft  in  sorrow  and  in  tears, 

With  racking  doubts  and  inward  fears, 
In  anguish  from  my  Love  IVe  parted, — 
Disconsolate  and  broken  hearted  : 

And  last,  beneath  the  evening  ray, 

That  crimson’d  deep  the  dying  day, 

I left  her — say  ! where  she  reposes. 

My  fair  who  dwells  among  the  roses  ? 

Maids  of  Judah! — from  yon  fountain. 
Like  a young  roe  on  Bether’s  mountain. 
See  she  comes  ! — the  rose  of  roses, — 
No  more  I ask  where  she  reposes  ! 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM. 


High  on  the  summit  of  a cliff  that  beetled  o’er  the  plain, 
The  warrior  stood — his  fiery  eye  full  flashing  in  disdain  ; 
For  in  the  breakings  of  the  morn,  beneath,  in  myriads  lay 
The  wild  beleaguering  hosts  that  swept  his  brightest 
hopes  away ; 


95 


Thick  as  ths  pest  o’er  Mizraim’s  land  the  rolling  thou- 
sands came, 

And  Judah  felt  round  all  her  coasts  the  devastating 

fame. 

And  as  he  gazed,  deep  thoughts  of  v/rath  his  inmost 
bosom  stirr’d, 

As  floating  on  the  rising  breeze  their  impious  songs  he 
heard. 

From  lips  unholy — awful  thought ! — like  pestilence  there' 
came, 

In  horrid  mirth — in  mutter’d  sounds — the  Unutterable 
Name. 

Dark  grew  his  brow — his  nervous  arm  upraised  his 
shining  spear, 

Strong  in  his  might,  his  conscious  heart  ’mong  thousands 
knew  not  fear. 

Lo!  buried  thoughts,  a glittering  train,  rose  o’er  his 
troubled  mind, 

Like  painted  clouds  before  the  breath  of  the  soft  summer 
wind ; 

He  thought  of  hours  of  victory,  v/hen,  borne  in  blushing 
pride, 

The  wave  of  beauty  rolled  along  and  glitter’d  by  his  side  | 

When  rosy  lips,  in  silver  sounds,  responded  o’er  the 
plain— 

Saul  has  Ms  thousands— David  has  his  tens  of  thou- 
sands slain  !” 


Dark  grew  the  terrors  of  his  brow,  when  gleaming  from 
afar, 

Thro’  its  tall  palms,  sweet  Beth’lem’s  Fount  show’d  like 
a radiant  star. 

Pure  Fountain!  thoughts  of  deepest  love  came  on  that 
glance  of  thine ; 

The  warrior’s  tear — his  nerveless  arm — proclaim  the 
potent  sign : 

Yes  ! peaceful  thoughts  of  other  days,  when,  round  thy 
shaded  brink. 

He  watched  his  bleating  flocks,  and  bore  his  weakling 
lambs  to  drink ! 

And  ’neath  thy  shelt’ring  palms  he  raised  the  consecrated 
strain, 

And  sung  the  glories  of  the  Heavens — the  wonders  of 
the  Main ; 

And  in  the  moments  of  ’rapt  thought,  with  more  than 
Seraph’s  fire. 

Transcendent  Bard ! he  swept  the  strings,  and  struck 
the  golden  lyre  1 

Celestial  thoughts  were  his — he  cried,  “All  hail,  pellucid 
Spring, 

Who  from  thy  fountain’s  lucent  wave  one  cooling  draught 
may  bring  ? 

Without  the  gate  I see  thee  gleam,  ’twould  ease  this 
burning  brow 

To  know,  as  oft  in  other  years,  thy  limpid  waters  now  ; 


97 


O ! that  some  valiant  arm  might  gain  thine  ever-living 
spring, 

And  through  the  godless  hosts,  even  now,  one  cooling 
draught  would  bring.” 

He  spoke,  and  swifter  than  the  bird  that  loves  the  moun- 
tain crest. 

His  warriors  thro’  the  embattled  lines  on  to  the  fountain 
prest 

* * ****## 

Exulting  to  their  leader,  they  in  conscious  pride  return, 

Bearing  aloft,  in  blood-stain’d  hands,  the  overflowing 
Urn ! 

He  gazed,  the  sacred  vessel  took,  and  o’er  the  flow’ry  sod 

Libations  pour’d,  in  pious  joy,  to  Israel’s  chosen  God: — 

‘‘  Unhallow’d  wish — Lord  of  my  life  ! I consecrate  to 
Thee 

The  peril’d  draught — Forgive  my  sin,  and  still  my 
Guardian  be.” 

Lord  ! like  the  glorious  Prototype,  we  still  would  cast 
our  eyes 

To  the  red  source  whence  Zion’s  wave  nnd  cleansing 
waters  rise  ; 

We,  ’mid  the  shades  of  changing  life,  in  sunshine,  and  in 
storm. 

Would  gaze  on  that  most  tranquil  depth,  which  nothing 
can  deform ; 

And  from  its  holy  calmness,  we,  thro’  life’s  most 
chequer’d  years. 

Would  find  a balm  for  agony — an  antidote  for  tears  ! 


98 


Yes!  we  would  cast  our  cherish’d  hopes,  our  earth-born 
thoughts  away, 

And,  as  an  off’ring„at  Thy  shrine,  our  brightest  tro- 
phies lay. 

Accept,  forgive,  this  erring  heart ! — Oh  I consecrate  our 
strain. 

And  from  Thy  temple  in  the  skies,  smile,  smile  on  us 
again  I 


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